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RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES 


BY 

HARRY  ELLARD 

POET  LARIAT  OF  THE  RANCHES 


AUTHOR'S    EDITION 


CANON  CITY,  COLORADO 
1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY  HARRY  EI<I,ARD, 
CANON  CITY,  COLORADO. 


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To   MY  DEAR  MOTHER 
WHOSE  I,OVE  AND  DEVOTION  is  WITHOUT 

AN   EQUAI,,  THIS  VOLUME  IS  AFFEC 
TION  ATEIyY   DEDICATED. 


My  Broncho  is  no  Pegasus, 

To  reach  Olympian  heights, 
But  still  up  Rocky  Mountain  slopes 

He  takes  me  in  his  flights. 
'Tis  here  that  thoughts  come  "-rounding  up" 

To  Nature,  near  akin, 
So  I  throw  my  mental  lariat, 

Aud  strive  to  "rope  them  in." 


INDEX. 


PAGE. 

The  Ranchman's  Story 9 

Boots 14 

A  Parvenu  Reception 23 

The  Anglomaniac  in  the  Rockies 37 

A  Tenderfoot  and  the  Broncho 42 

Leaving  the  Ranch 45 

Old  Ephraim's  Last  Feed 49 

Lanky  Bill  and  the  Parson 53 

My  Sweetheart  on  the  Ranch 62 

The  Dance  at  Stirrup  Ranch 64 

Leaving  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds 71 

The  Mining  Prospector 78 

Christmas  on  Circle  A  Ranch 82 

A  Cripple  Creek  Narrative 91 

The  Cow-Boy  Regiment 93 

The  Passing  of  the  Buffalo 94 

Buck  Fever 98 

Song  of  the  Lariat       100 

The  Round  Up 102 


THE  RANCHMAN'S  STORY. 


WOU  see  that  poor  broncho — just  look  at  him,  stranger; 
He  is  not  very  handsome,  but  he 's  battled  with  danger. 
That  barbed- wire  scar  you  see  on  his  side 
Is  the  mark  that  a  hero  might  point  to  with  pride. 

So  you  want  me  to  tell  you  the  story?     All  right  ; 
Just  wait  till  I  give  him  his  feed  for  the  night. 
For  I  say  to  you,  stranger,  I '  d  go  without  bread 
To  pile  up  the  hay  for  that  dear  broncho's  bed. 

Well,  'twas  a  night  on  the  range,  'neath  the  shining  moon's 

beams, 

I  had  tethered  my  horse  and  laid  down  to  my  dreams, 
With  my  head  in  the  saddle,  which  I  threw  on  the  ground, 
And  soon  I  was  snoring  in  a  sleep  that  was  sound. 

I  was  roused  by  a  noise — my  broncho  was  neighing : 
'There  's  danger  around,"  I  thought  he  was  saying. 
Soon  an  ominous  howl  in  the  distance  I  heard  — 
My  whole  being  thrilled  with  the  horror  it  stirred. 

(9) 


10  THE  RANCHMAN'S  STORY. 

The  terrible  sound,  well  known  to  my  ear, 
Was  enough  to  excite  the  bravest  man's  fear. 
For  the  fierce  mountain  wolves  —  a  ravenous  pack  — 
Were  howling,  and  rushing  fast  on  to  my  track. 

'  T  was  the  work  of  a  moment  my  saddle  to  cinch  ; 
My  rifle,  well  loaded,  to  my  side  I  did  clinch. 
I  was  off  in  a  second,  like  the  flight  of  the  wind, 
While  the  wolves,  in  their  anger,  were  racing  behind. 

I  knew  they  were  gaining  close  on  to  my  course, 
I  held  the  rein  loose  and  spurred  the  poor  horse. 
Fast  onward  he  went,  with  hastening  speed, 
Nor  heeded  the  cactus  that  made  his  feet  bleed. 

O'er  sharp,  cutting  rocks  in  terror  he  fled, 
Through  the  brush  and  the  sage  he  eagerly  sped. 
Then  he  stumbled  and  fell.     Oh,  God  !  my  blood  froze, 
And  only  thawed  out  when  the  horse  again  rose. 

Oh,  how  my  heart  ached,  as  I  held  to  the  rein, 
To  cut  the  brave  horse  with  the  spurs  once  again; 
For  I  knew  the  keen  pain  from  his  raw,  bleeding  knees, 
As  we  passed  like  the  lightning  beneath  the  pine  trees. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  11 

Still  closer  behind  the  broncho's  swift  heels, 
The  cry  of  the  wolves  in  hunger  still  peals. 
So  near,  I  could  see  in  the  darkness  arise 
The  fiery  glow  of  their  fierce,  shining  eyes. 

So  close,  I  could  hear  their  hot,  panting  breath, 
As  they  hounded  me  on,  as  I  thought,  to  my  death. 
My  rifle  I  grasped,  I  made  a  shot  tell, 
For  with  the  report  I  heard  a  sharp  yell. 

Again  and  again,  as  I  turned  my  eyes  back, 
At  random  I  shot  in  the  blood-thirsty  pack. 
Once  more  on  the  air  came  a  loud  cry  of  pain, 
As  the  broncho  leaped  forth,  a  few  steps  to  gain. 

I  'rose  in  my  saddle,  still  urging  him  on, 

As  I  saw  in  the  sky  the  first  flush  of  dawn. 

He  scaled  the  barbed  wire  at  Ranch  Double- Bar  = 

Which  branded  forever  that  deeply  cut  scar. 

From  the  deep,  cruel  wound  the  blood  streamed  in  his 
flight. 

Oh,  never  again  may  I  see  such  a  sight. 

We  had  distanced  the  wolves  in  the  maddening  race  ; 

They  had  turned  in  their  course  to  give  up  the  chase. 


12  THE  RANCHMAN'S  STORY. 

But  my  brave  little  broncho,  who  saved  me  from  death, 
Now  fell  to  the  ground,  with  his  fast  failing  breath. 
But  from  the  near  ranch  how  the  cowboys  did  run, 
Who  had  risen  for  work  at  the  dawn  of  the  sun. 

They  had  seen  my  swift  flight,  had  heard  my  loud  call, 
Had  seen  the  wild  plunge  and  my  broncho' s  sad  fall. 
I  only  gasped  "  wolves,"  they  now  understood, 
Why  the  flanks  of  my  horse  were  bathed  in  his  blood. 

They  lifted  me  up  with  the  tenderest  care, 
And  soon  I  revived  in  the  fresh  morning  air. 
"  Oh,  boys,  if  you  love  me,"  I  cried  in  my  grief, 
"  Do  something  at  once  for  my  broncho's  relief." 

They  bathed  the  sharp  cut,  some  skill  they  did  show 
In  staunching  the  blood  till  it  ceased  in  its  flow. 
With  the  hand  of  a  surgeon  one  sewed  up  the  wound, 
As  the  weak,  panting  beast  lay  still  on  the  ground. 

Now,  stranger,  I  tell  you,  if  you  want  a  good  friend, 
There 's  none  like  the  cowboys  on  whom  to  depend. 
I  've  trusted  and  tried  them,  as  I  have  my  brave  steed, 
And  I  welcomed  their  aid  in  my  hour  of  need. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 


13 


My  broncho  is  scarred — not  in  war's  bitter  strife, 
But  he  saved  with  his  daring  a  ranchman's  dear  life. 
Would  I  sell  him?     Oh,  stranger,  no  purse  could  e'er  hold 
A  treasure  so  vast  as  his  value  untold. 


BOOTS. 

I N  the  bed  rock  vein  at  Red  Cliff  in  the  mining  days  of  yore, 
*    Men  sought  with  zest  and  vigor  for  the  gold  and  silver  ore. 
They  struggled  for  these  riches  from  morning  until  night, 
And  dreamed  of  happy  futures  where  the  prospects  all  were  bright. 

They  all  were  strong  and  hearty,  ambitious  in  their  aim, 

And  worked  with  manly  courage  in  staking  out  a  claim. 

And  when  the  "pay  dirt"  yielded  in  the  vein  that  they  had  struck, 

They  blessed  the  happy  hour  they  had  met  with  such  good  luck. 

They  were  jolly,  free  and  easy,  and  relished  any  fun, 

When  they  sought  their  miner's  quarters,  after  all  their  work  was 
done; 

And  their  rough,  unpainted  cabins  resounded  oft  with  song, 
Which  canon  walls  repeated  in  echoes  loud  and  long. 

Against  one  woman  in  the  camp  they  never  bore  a  grudge, 
Although  she  led  the  weary  life  of  a  patient,  toiling  drudge. 
But  something  in  her  bearing  commanded  their  respect, 
While  her  filial  devotion  was  touching  in  effect. 

(14) 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  15 

Her  father — old  and  worthless — scarcely  drew  a  sober  breath, 
But  his  daughter's  oft  assertion,  she  would  stick  to  him  till  death, 
Had  made  the  jolly  miners  very  frequently  refrain 
From  making  sport  of  "  Daddy,"  as  they  called  the  old  man's 
name. 

When  "Daddy  "  and  his  daughter  first  came  into  the  camp, 
They  were  both  forlorn  and  hungry  from  a  long  and  weary  tramp; 
They  seemed  as  lean  and  lanky,  as  if  fed  on  roots  and  straw, 
And  looked  as  odd  a  couple  as  a  person  ever  saw. 

The  girl  was  dressed  up  in  a  fashion  which  was  strictly  all  her  own, 
And  it  wasn't  in  the  latest  style  or  of  the  highest  tone. 
Her  waist  was  an  old  army  coat  her  father  once  had  worn, 
With  the  elbows  darned  and  patched,  to  hide  the  places  that  were 
torn. 

His  soldier  blanket  made  her  skirt,  which  clasped  her  tightly 

round, 

And  from  its  scanty  measurement  was  far  above  the  ground; 
And  reaching  up  to  meet  this  skirt  some  leather  boots  she  wore 
Which  gave  to  her  the  queerest  name  a  maiden  ever  bore. 

For  when  the  men  first  saw  her  and  heard  her  sounding  tread, 
The  name  of  "Boots,"  as  lightning,  flashed  through  each  miner's 

head; 

And  ever  thus  they  dubbed  her,  which  she  never  did  resent, 
But  with  a  calm  indifference  upon  her  way  she  went. 


16  BOOTS. 

Of  a  shack  she  took  possession,  and  for  a  business  sign 
She  painted  "  Meals  for  Miners  "  upon  a  board  of  pine. 
This  she  nailed  upon  her  cabin,  and  in  a  week  or  two 
Boots  found  as  much  upon  her  hands  as  she  possibly  could  do. 

The  pay,  from  willing  patrons,  eked  out  her  slender  purse, 
While  they  relished  all  her  cooking  and  said  it  might  be  worse. 
She  scrubbed  her  cabin  daily,  keeping  things  so  clean  and  bright, 
The  miners  oft  declared  the  room  gave  them  an  appetite. 

When  seated  at  the  table  they  would  watch  her  skill  with  pride, 
As  she  flopped  the  flap- jacks  over  upon  the  other  side; 

Then  she  snatched  them  from  the  griddle  as  soon  as  they  were 
brown, 

And,  soaked  well  with  molasses,  they  were  quickly  swallowed  down. 

She  had  a  merry  nature,  with  many  a  joke  in  store, 
And  often  turned  in  whirling  dance  outside  her  cabin  door. 
And  more  than  one  rough  miner,  had  in  his  homely  way, 
Declared  he  loved  her  better  than  any  words  could  say. 

Boots  kept  her  council  wisely,  and  not  a  man  did  know 
On  whom  she  deemed  most  worthy  her  affections  to  bestow. 

And  often  she  would  say,  with  smiles,  "Don't  ask  me  now  to 
choose, 

For  if  I  took  the  heart  of  one,  all  the  others  I  would  lose." 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  17 

One  day  Boots  went  to  "timber,"  she  thought  that  in  her  tramp 
She  would  get  a  load  of  "pinion"  to  bring  some  day  to  camp. 
She  believed  in  gathering  fuel  before  the  Winter  came, 
For  she  could  wield  a  heavy  axe,  in  steady  stroke  and  aim. 

The  men  saw  her  with  an  axe  and  rope  and  heard  her  steps  depart, 
And  a  longing  for  a  little  fun  seemed  to  seize  each  miner's  heart; 
But  in  their  reckless  spirit  honor  drifted  from  their  sight, 

And  for  a  time  their  actions  proved  they  knew  not  wrong  from 
right. 

For  one  had  said,  "Old  Daddy  's  drunk  and  Boots  has  gone  away, 
So  let  us  rouse  the  old  chap  up,  and  have  some  sport  to-day; 
I  '  ve  got  some  cans  of  colored  paint—  let  us  smear  it  on  his  clothes, 
And  give  a  fine,  artistic  touch  to  eyebrows  and  to  nose. 


's  paint  his  old  gray  whiskers  green,  his  shirt  a  shining  red, 
And  the  ace  of  spades  we  '11  put  on  top  the  bald  spot  on  his  head; 
His  chin  and  cheeks  we'll  decorate  with  diamond,  heart  and  club, 
And  on  his  dingy  leather  'snaps'  some  blue  paint  we  can  rub. 

"  We  '11  get  the  old  man  merry,  and  make  him  dance  a  jig, 
And  Boots  will  scarcely  know  him,  when  she  sees  him  in  this  rig. 
'T  will  be  the  greatest  kind  of  fun  to  hear  what  she  will  say, 
For  all  her  dander  will  be  up,  she  '11  fight  us  right  away. 


18  BOOTS. 

"  But  after  her  first  anger's  gone  she'll  laugh  with  all  the  rest; 
She  '11  think  of  all  the  jokes  she 's  seen  that  this  one  is  the  best. 

And  though  she  loves  her  worthless  Dad,  she  '11  not  begrudge  the 
fun 

That  we  have  had  at  his  expense  when  all  the  work  is  done. ' ' 

When  all  the  miners  heard  these  plans  they  gave  a  mighty  shout, 
And  cried,  "  of  all  the  schemes  for  sport  this  is  the  greatest  out. 
Let's  hurry  up  and  get  the  paint,  and  get  our  subject,  too  ; 
Our  work  of  art  should  take  a  prize,  the  treatment  will  be  new." 

So  they  carried  Daddy  in  their  arms  and  put  him  in  a  chair, 
And  soon  proceeded  with  the  brush  to  paint  his  clothes  and  hair. 
In  a  maudlin,  tipsy  voice  he  said,  "Now,  boys,  what's  that  you  do?" 
"Keep  quiet,  Daddy,"  he  was  told,  "we're  only  painting  you." 

' '  Oh,  that's  all  right, ' '  he  answered  back,  ' '  for  I' m  not  very  clean ; 
Perhaps  when  I  am  painted  Boots  would  think  I  could  be  seen. 
She  often  said  a  gentleman  would  never  look  like  me, 
But  after  a  good  coat  of  paint  a  mighty  change  she  'd  see. 

"I'm  glad  you  take  an  interest,  boys,  in  fixing  me  up  nice; 
Boots  often  said  she'd  buy  me  clothes  if  it  wasn't  for  the  price. 
But  after  this  I  '11  tell  her,  I've  found  out  something,  Boots; 
'Twill  be  cheaper  using  paint,  my  gal,  than  buying  me  new  suits. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  19 

"  Now,  Daddy,  you  're  all  finished,  you  're  painted  up  in  style; 
Just  dance  for  us  a  little  jig,"  said  laughing  Jimmy  I^yle. 
"  You  've  been  walking  like  a  sailor  with  his  sea  legs  rolling  round, 
Now  cut  some  graceful  "  pigeon  wings"  across  the  rocky  ground. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  '11  do  my  very  best,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  rose; 
"  For  I  used  to  be  a  dandy  in  turning  out  my  toes." 
But  in  his  tipsy  efforts  he  fell  upon  the  ground, 

While  the  men,  with  shouts  and  laughter,  made  all  the  rocks 
resound. 

Just  then  a  woman's  figure  came  quickly  into  view. 
The  men  waited  with  impatience  to  see  what  Boots  would  do. 
She  heard  their  merry  laughter  and  hastened  to  take  part, 
With  no  foreboding  feeling  of  the  insult  to  her  heart." 

She  saw  her  poor  old  father  lying  down  in  his  disgrace, 

And  the  fury  of  a  demon  surged  upward  to  her  face; 

She  rushed  to  lift  him  gently,  to  place  him  in  a  chair, 

Then  turned  toward  the  laughing  men  with  a  hard  and  stony  stare. 

Her  cheeks  were  red  with  anger,  she  stood  with  lips  compressed, 
And  for  a  moment  motionless,  with  her  hands  across  her  breast. 
And  then,  with  scathing  hatred,  she  hurled  her  words  of  scorn, 
Till  they  pricked  the  hearts  around  her  like  a  needle-pointed  thorn. 


20  BOOTS. 

"For  shame!"  she  cried;   "you  sneaking  curs,  for  the  work  that 

you  have  done. 

I  '11  take  my  vengeance  out  the  hide  of  every  mother's  son." 
She  posed  with  arms  a-kimbo,  with  a  strong,  unflinching  nerve, 
While  from  her  firm  position  not  an  instant  did  she  swerve. 

"Comeon!"  shecried;  "come  on,  you  men  that  painted  Daddy  o'er, 
You  '11  find  that  I  can  use  my  fists  until  your  bones  are  sore. 
Whip  me,  a  woman,  if  you  can,  you  cowardly  galoots ! 
Just  try  the  mettle  of  the  girl  that  you  have  all  called  Boots ! 

"You  think  you  've  done  a  worthy  deed,  to  spread  around  your 

fame, 

But  you  've  only  brought  dishonor  to  the  Bed  Rock  miner's  name. 
To  take  a  mean  advantage  of  a  poor,  old  drunken  man, 
Should  class  you  with  the  cut-throats  of  a  thievish  mountain  clan. 

' '  You  see  me,  men,  with  hardened  hands,  that  work  and  labor  tell, 
But  I  have  a  heart  within  my  breast  that  loves  my  father  well. 
I  've  been  hail  fellow  with  you  all,  and  joined  in  merry  jokes, 
But  now  you  've  struck  the  tender  spot,  that  all  my  ire  provokes. 

"And  one  among  you  dared  to  ask  that  I  should  be  his  wife. 
He  '11  have  to  find  another  girl,  I  wouldn't  trust  my  life 
With  one  who  has  no  pity  for  the  helpless  and  the  old; 
He  'd  turn  me  out  some  rainy  night  in  the  darkness  and  the  cold. 


RANCH  TAI^ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  21 

"Of  course,  you  're  rough  and  homely  in  your  blackened  miner's 

clothes, 

But  true  men  live  beneath  their  duds,  as  everybody  knows. 
And  when  my  lad  came  courting  me  I  kissed  his  grimy  cheek, 
And  only  thought  of  that  clean  heart  that  women  always  seek. 

"But  I  'm  no  more  a  woman — I  '11  meet  you  as  a  man- 
My  father  has  no  stalwart  son,  but  I  '11  be  one  if  I  can. 
Come  on  !  stand  up  !  I'm  ready  for  a  fair  contested  fight, 
And  if  I  fall  I  know  full  well  my  cause  is  just  and  right." 


The  men  all  hung  their  heads  in  shame  beneath  her  words  of  scorn, 
And  wished  within  their  very  hearts  they  never  had  been  born. 
For  a  time  no  word  was  spoken,  till  one,  bolder  than  the  rest, 
Stood  up  with  manly  courage,  and  angry  Boots  addressed. 

"We're  sorry,  Boots,  for  what  we  've  done,  each  man  here  is  a 

chump ; 

We  '11  swear  by  you  forever;  for,  my  girl,  you  've  proved  a  trump. 
We  think  the  devil  moved  us  when  we  did  that  dirty  trick, 
But  we  're  not  so  bad  as  you  have  thought,  we  '11  yet  to  honor  stick. 


22  BOOTS. 

"We'll  serve  you,   Boots,   as  ne'er    before;   we'll  act  at  your 
command; 

And  that  old  painted  Dad  of  yours  —  we'll  take  him  by  the  hand, 
And  if  a  man  dares  treat  him  with  respect  less  than  his  due, 
There'll  be  a  fight  till  finished,  and  this  we  swear  to  you. 

"And,  Boots,  although  you've  hinted  each  man  looked  like  a  tramp, 
You'll  have  a  stout  defender  in  each  miner  from  this  camp. 
Boys,  doff  your  hats  to  Boots,  so  brave;  "hurrah,  and  tiger,  too," 
And  let  her  feel  that  we  have  left  a  little  manhood  true." 

Then  the  air  around  resounded  with  the  ringing  hearty  yell, 
Which  evinced  the  kindly  feeling  no  words  could  ever  tell. 
And  in  the  eyes  of  trembling  Boots  was  welling  up  a  tear, 
As,  with  a  deferential  air,  the  men  to  her  drew  near. 

She  took  each  proffered,  grimy  hand  in  a  firm  and  honest  grasp, 

Which  the  men  returned  with  fervor,  as  they  held  hers  in  their 
clasp; 

And  in  the  friendship  now  restored  she  felt  again  secure, 
And  believed  their  protestations  to  be  sincere  and  sure. 

She  wiped  her  eyes  upon  her  sleeve  and  checked  a  rising  sob, 
As  she  said  with  hearty,  frankness,  "  I  forgive  you  for  this  job; 
But  remember,  boys,  you  mustn't  try  a  woman's  heart  too  much, 
For  the  fire  of  a  devil  she  can  kindle  with  a  touch. ' ' 


A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 


SOME    twenty   years   ago   there 
came  to  lucky  Golden  Hill 

A  woman,  called  "Fat  Peggy,"  and 
her  husband  they  called  Bill. 

This  Peggy  did  the  washing  for  the 
miners  in  the  camp, 

While  Bill  was  busy  daily  on  a  long 
prospecting  tramp. 


And  often  Bill  was  tired  when  he 
returned  at  night, 

And  reported  unto  Peggy  no  gold 
was  yet  in  sight. 

But  Peggy  had  a  hopeful  heart  and 
said  to  "hump  it"  still; 

She  was  certain  that  he  yet  would 
strike  some  ore  in  Golden  Hill. 


Biw,  WORKING  AT  His  MINE  ON  GOLDEN  HII,I,.  (23) 


24  A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 

Now,  Peggy  was  a  woman  who  was  liked  by  all  around; 
She  was  put  up  like  a  fighter,  with  her  brawny  arms  so  sound. 
And  when  it  came  to  ' '  scrapping ' '  she  could  give  them  all  a  rub, 
Just  as  well  as  she  could  handle  her  washing  board  and  tub. 

She  lived  within  a  wooden  shack,  with  a  window  and  a  door, 
And  thought  it  but  the  wildest  dream  to  hope  of  having  more, 
As  the  money  she  was  earning  came  slowly  dime  by  dime, 
By  the  work  which  kept  her  busy  at  the  wash  tub  all  the  time. 

"Why,  Peggy,  what  a  shame  it  is,"  a  miner  once  did  say, 
' '  That  you  do  all  the  labor,  while  Bill  idles  every  day ; 
He'll  never  strike  the  'pay  dirt'  or  ore  of  any  kind, 
If  he  handles  pick  and  shovel  till  he's  old  and  gray  and  blind." 

Then  Peggy's  face  flashed  fire — Bill's  worth  she  did  not  doubt; 
If  any  one  dared  do  so,  she  would  put  him  quick  to  rout. 

"How  can  you  judge  of  work?"  she  cried,  "  you  good-for-nothing 
clown  ! 

If  you  say  another  word  'gainst  Bill,  I  '11  come  and  knock  you 
down." 

She  suited  action  to  the  word,  and  squared  herself  a  bit, 
And  rolled  her  sleeves  up  higher  for  a  pugilistic  hit. 
But  the  man  had  seen  his  error,  and  hastily  had  fled 
Ere  the  blows  of  Peggy's  anger  had  fallen  on  his  head. 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE;  ROCKIES.  25 

So  Bill  kept  on  prospecting,  every  day  about  the  same, 
Until  he  struck  some  "pay  ore"  in  the  vein  upon  his  claim. 
He  sunk  his  shaft  in  deeper,  just  to  see  how  things  would  run, 
Which  revealed  the  hidden  treasure,  running  thousands  to  the  ton. 

He  did  not  say  a  single  word,  but  started  on  the  road 
To  tell  his  wife  what  he  had  found  within  his  lucky  lode. 
"I  've  struck  it  rich,  old  gal,"  he  said;  "  I  '11  be  a  millionaire. 
I  own  the  claim,  and  no  one  else  can  hold  a  single  share. 

"  Now,  in  the  future,  Peggy,  no  money  will  you  lack; 

Take  down  that  sign  of  'washing  done,'  that's  nailed  upon  our 
shack. 

You  '11  never  dabble  any  more  with  wash  tubs  or  with  suds; 
Just  tell  the  men  this  simple  truth  next  time  they  bring  their  duds. ' ' 

He  could  not  keep  the  secret,  for  the  news  soon  spread  around 
Of  the  high  assay  that  had  been  made  upon  this  favored  ground. 
Next  day  the  Denver  papers  page  after  page  did  fill 
With  heavy  headlines,  "All  about  the  'strike'  on  Golden  Hill  !  " 

It  was  not  long  ere  Bill  received  a  message  from  the  Bast: 
"An  English  syndicate  of  means  would  like  to  know  the  least 
That  you  will  take  for  your  big  mine.     Just  wire  us,  to-day, 
If  we  can  send  our  man  at  once,  a  sample  to  assay." 


26  A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 

Bill  answered  back,  "  I'  11  fix  the  sum  when  I  have  seen  your  man; 

But  send  him  on  as  quickly  as  a  locomotive  can.' ' 

The  agent  tried  the  treasure  and  saw  how  it  did  run, 

And  wired  to  the  syndicate:  "  Take  it ;  thousands  to  the  ton." 

So,  satisfied  with  the  report,  they  bargained  for  Bill's  claim, 
And  in  a  Colorado  bank  placed  millions  to  his  name. 
Bill  came  to  Denver,  signed  the  deed,  and  all  the  work  was  done, 
And  blessed  the  day  when  he  had  struck  his  thousands  to  the  ton. 

He  wrote  to  Peggy, ' '  Leave  the  camp,  put  your  washtubs  in  the  fire, 
I  've  got  the  dust  for  all  the  cooks  and  maids  you  wish  to  hire. 
I  never  thought  we  'd  realize  such  riches  from  our  luck, 
It  only  shows  what  can  be  done  by  grit  and  earnest  pluck." 

Bill  prospered  in  each  deal  he  made,  his  millions  added  more, 
Till  bank  accounts  and  stocks  and  bonds  were  doubled  by  the  score. 
When  thus  his  purse  did  overflow,  on  top  he  strived  to  bob, 
And  was  known  to  all  the  neighbors  as  the  wealthy  Mr.  Snob. 

His  name  was  on  committees,  while  all  the  papers  said 

"  Mr.  Snob  is  public  spirited;  we  '11  place  him  at  the  head 

Of  all  our  local  charities.     We  do  not  underrate 

His  worth  by  any  kind  of  means — we  know  it 's  very  great." 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE;  ROCKIES.  27 

A  strong  desire  seized  him  now  to  shine  in  social  life; 

He  had  the  cash  to  do  it,  as  he  often  told  his  wife. 

So  he  relied  upon  her  aid  to  help  the  cause  along, 

And  fondly  hoped  to  see  her  move  among  the  favored  throng. 

On  Upper  Hill  he  built  a  house  of  old  colonial  style, 
And  in  it  he  put  everything  he  possibly  could  pile. 
From  the  finest  Turkish  carpets  on  inlaid  floor  and  stair, 
While  on  his  walls  and  bric-a-brac  no  money  did  he  spare. 

He  bought  a  span  of  horses  next,  a  tally-ho  and  coach, 
That  no  one  living  on  the  Hill  could  e'er  in  style  approach. 
A  retinue  of  servants  very  soon  was  placed  in  line, 
So  not  a  thing  was  lacking  to  make  his  palace  shine. 

He  said  to  Mrs.  Snob  one  day,  "  I  '11  tell  you  now,  my  gal, 
You  must  give  one  of  them  parties  what  they  call  a  musicale ; 
You  must  wear  them  finest  dresses,  what  make  you  look  so  trim, 
And  show  them  round  to  all  the  folks,  and  so  get  in  the  swim. 

"Tell  'em  all  about  our  organ,  our  Steinway  Grand  planner, 
And  how  our  house  is  painted  up  in  highfalutin'  manner. 
You  must  jine  the  church  without  delay,  and  see  the  preacher,  too; 
And  tell  him  that  you  came  to  take  his  most  expensive  pew. 


28  A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 

"Go  buy  an  ivory  prayer  book  first  time  you  go  to  town, 
With  all  them  purple  ribbons  a  hangin'  danglin'  down; 
With  anchors,  hearts  and  crosses,  all  made  of  solid  gold, 
And  ask  how  you  must  use  them,  for  I  was  never  told." 

So  Mrs.  Snob  did  as  he  said,  in  show  she  did  not  lack, 

She  piled  the  diamonds  on  her  hands  and  silks  upon  her  back; 

And  as  a  month  or  two  went  by  was  introduced  around, 

And  felt  that  in  the  "social  swim"  she  'd  gained  a  little  ground. 

Now,  since  a  few  acquaintances  had  made  a  formal  call, 
'Twas  then  her  turn  to  give  a  "tea"  and  so  outshine  them  all. 
With  this  in  view,  she  soon  prepared  to  get  her  house  in  shape, 
To  hang  her  new  lace  curtains  and  her  portieres  to  drape. 

To  wax  and  polish  up  her  floors,  wipe  off  the  frescoed  walls, 
To  spread  the  rugs,  the  mirrors  dust,  in  all  the  rooms  and  halls; 
To  burnish  up  her  fine  cut-glass  and  all  her  silverware, 
Until  they  shone  as  jewels  bright,  amid  her  china  rare. 

She  kept  the  servants  running  from  morning  until  night, 
With  a  constant  exclamation  :   "  Make  things  look  out  of  sight." 
When  furniture  and  bric-a-brac  had  found  its  proper  place, 
Then  to  the  card  engraver  did  she  quickly  set  her  pace. 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  29 

"Good  morning,  Mrs.  Snob,"  he  said;  " what  can  I  do  for  you?" 
As  she  strutted  from  her  carriage  and  in  the  doorway  flew. 
"  I  want  some  good  engravin'  done,  on  the  invitation  plan, 
And  make  them  just  as  big  and  fine  as  possibly  you  can." 

She  handed  him  a  list  of  names  of  people  on  the  "Crest," 
And  told  him  to  address  to  each,  "in  writin'  of  the  best," 
One  of  these  invitations  to  her  social  afternoon, 
When  she  'd  receive  her  many  guests  on  the  second  day  of  June. 

With  this  much  done,  she  drove  to  see  the  florist  of  the  town, 
And  told  him  he  must  fill,  with  care,  the  orders  she  wrote  down. 
"  I  want  the  house  just  bloomin'  up  with  all  the  latest  flowers; 
Hang  'em  on  the  walls  and  ceilin' ,  from  the  basement  to  the  towers. 

"  I  don't  want  nothin'  snide,"  she  said,  "so  move  yourself 
around, 

And  see  that  all  them  flowers  what 's  a-growin'  in  the  ground 
Is  of  the  finest  quality  —  don't  mind  the  heavy  bill  — 
I  want  to  show  the  people  we  are  nabobs  of  the  Hill." 

The  caterer  she  next  did  see,  and  told  him  all  her  needs, 
And  said :  "  I  want  you  now  to  set  me  one  of  them  champagne  feeds, 
With  lots  of  macaronys  and  ice  cream,  white  and  red, 
And  all  the  other  tasty  grub,  from  the  chicken  to  the  bread," 


30  A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 

Her  work  was  done,  she  felt  quite  sure  that  she  would  cut  a  swell, 
And  at  her  social  afternoon  all  the  elite  would  tell 
That  Mrs.  Snob  was  just  the  one  the  upper  set  to  lead  ; 
In  fact,  her  presence  and  her  wealth  filled  up  a  wanted  need. 

When  Mr.  Snob  came  home  at  night  she  said,  "My  darlin'  Bill, 
When  I  get  through  this  jamboree,  there 's  no  one  on  the  Hill 
But  what  will  see  we  're  right  in  line  with  breedin'  of  the  best, 
And  from  this  time  I  '11  hold  my  head  much  higher  than  the  rest. 

"I'm  certain  now  you '  11  knock  them  out, ' '  her  husband  did  reply ; 
' '  I  '11  give  you  all  the  checks  you  want,  the  best  of  things  to  buy; 
So  all  the  folks  what  comes  that  day,  will  spread  the  word  about 
That  you  can  beat  them  cards  and  spades  in  givin'  a  blowout." 

The  day  arrived  for  Mrs.  Snob  to  hold  her  social  sway. 

She  started  in  the  early  morn  to  fix  her  great  array 

Of  silk  and  lace  and  choicest  pearls,  with  diamonds  every  size: 

'Twas  her  intent  to  be  the  one  to  dazzle  all  their  eyes. 

Her  gorgeous  gown  was  silk  brocade,  with  flounce  of  Brussels  lace, 
And  as  she  viewed  the  lengthy  train  a^smile  spread  o'er  her  face. 
She  rammed  her  pudgy  fingers  in  a  glove  twice  Number  3 
When  9  would  be  the  only  size  to  fit  her  properly. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  31 

She  placed  her  rings  outside  her  glove,  above  each  finger  joint; 
With  these  stiff  and  jeweled  digits  at  everything  she'd  point. 
She  wore  a  diamond  necklace,  a  tiara  on  her  head- 
"  There's  nothin'  like  a  showin'  off  some  costly  gems,"  she  said. 

'T  was  nearly  three,  the  doorbell  rang,  the  first  to  come  was  there; 
The  butler  ushered  her  inside  and  up  the  inlaid  stair. 
For  a  dozen  maids  were  waiting,  decked  out  in  snowy  caps, 
To  help  each  one,  as  she  arrived,  to  lay  aside  her  wraps. 

It  was  not  long  ere  all  had  come  to  spend  the  afternoon, 
And  in  the  spacious  drawing  rooms  they  all  assembled  soon, 
To  pay  respect  to  Mrs.  Snob,  who  smiled  and  bowed  and  bowed— 
The  Queen  of  Sheba  never  felt  so  happy  and  so  proud. 

"How  do  you  do,"  shesaidtoall,  "justshashay' round  the  rooms, 
And  walk  upon  them  carpets,  what  was  made  by  finest  looms. 
Gaze  on  them  '  antic'  mantles,  of  the  Lizzie  Bethron  age, 
The  man  that  sold  them  said  to  us,  that  they  was  all  the  rage. 

"And  you  see  that  lovely  stature,  a  standin'  over  here — 

'  T  was  made  by  some  great  sculptor  —  it '  s  a  Polly  Belley  Deer. 

Inside  that  case  is  heirlooms,  what  every  family  owns; 

Bill  bought  the  biggest  he  could  find  among  the  precious  stones. 


32  A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 

"  You  see  that  Royal  Rooster  vase,  and  that  other  thing,  so  fine? 
Well,  that  is  Mary  Adna,  a  ridin'  on  a  lion. 
That's  done  in  Marrow  Marble,  but  I  often  thought  it  strange, 
She  didn't  ride  a  broncho,  as  the  girls  do  on  the  range. 

' '  You  know  our  coated  arms  are  stamped  on  everything  around. 
We  've  got  a  Steer  rampageous,  a-scootin'  over  ground. 
For  when  we  bought  this  finery,  they  threw  in  a  family  crest; 
We  wasn't  goin'  to  be  outdid  by  any  of  the  best. 

' '  Now,  look  at  them  there  pictures — they  cost  an  awful  pile, 
But  the  artist  said  the  colors  was  all  done  up  in  "ile;" 
This  was  the  most  expensive  paint  that  any  one  could  buy, 
For  all  we  used  upon  the  barn  did  never  come  so  high. 

"And  the  frame  around  that  paintin' ,  with  its  mouldering  of  gold, 
Was  the  brightest  and  the  biggest  that  the  man  had  ever  sold. 
He  said  the  style  was  Renner  Saunts —  whatever  that  might  be; 
But  anyhow,  I  bought  the  frame  —  for  it  just  suited  me." 

"  I  admire  your  esthetic  taste,"  remarked  one  of  the  guests  ; 

"  For  the  light  shown  in  that  landscape,  which  upon  the  mountain 

rests, 

Beams  forth  in  glowing  splendor,  like  the  rosy  tints  of  dawn, 
When  from  the  Chariot  of  the  Sun  is  heralded  the  morn. 


RANCH  TAI^ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  33 

"  These  works  of  art,  dear  Mrs.  Snob,  help  elevate  our  lives, 
And  lift  to  the  ideal  plane,  for  which  one  always  strives. 
Environment  can  educate;  besides  it  often  will, 
To  even  those  of  obscure  birth,  a  cultured  taste  instill." 

"Well,  I  guess  them  words  are  proper  and  everything  polite; 
I  'd  like  to  spout  them  out  myself,  and  fit  'em  in  all  right, 
But  I'll  be  patient  as  I  can,  till  things  just  fall  in  line  ; 
Them  fancy  words  and  learnin'  will,  I  know,  all  come  in  time." 

"Your  worthy,  high  ambition,"  replied  another  one, 

' '  Must  really  be  commended,  for  your  aspirations  run 

In  a  literary  channel  —  to  fulfill  them  is  the  rub. 

So,  Mrs.  Snob,  you'd  better  join  our  newest  Woman's  Club." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  will,"  she  answered  back,  "for  I  've  got  all  the 
books  — 

The  very  best,  as  you  will  see,  a  judgin'  by  their  looks; 

All  bound  in  Rooshun  leather;  the  standard  works,  they  said, 

Writ  by  the  smartest  kind  of  men,  all  out  of  their  own  head. 

"Now,  Standard  Calico  is  good,  and  Standard  Wagons,  too; 
So  I  just  thought  that  Standard  Books  were  just  the  ones  to  do. 
Just  go  into  the  libr'y,  and  I  think  you'll  see  at  once 
That  any  one  what  reads  them  books  could  never  be  a  dunce- 


34  A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 

And  a  literary  buro  sent  to  me  the  other  day 

A  notice,  that  they'd  write  me,  in  the  finest  kind  of  way, 

Any  paper  that  I  wanted,  on  Literature  or  Art ; 

So  I  guess  that's  what  is  needed,  if  I  wish  a  proper  start. 

For  some  they  charged  ten  dollars,  for  others  twenty-five, 
But  the  price  wont  cut  no  figure,  as  sure  as  I  'm  alive; 
I  '11  buy  the  very  best  they  've  got,  if  I'm  called  upon  to  read, 
For  among  the  smartest  women  I  would  like  to  take  the  lead. 

"  Then  pass  into  the  dining  room,  where  all  the  lunch  is  free. 
Just  help  yourself  to  anything  and  everything  you  see. 
Look  at  all  my  Dreggin  China,  and  that  from  Haverland, 
For  all  the  flowers  on  the  plates  was  painted  there  by  hand." 

She  said  in  cordial  tones  to  each,  "Now  make  yourselves  to  hum; 
Indeed,  I  say,  I'm  very  glad  to  think  that  you  did  come ; 
For  the  man  what  prints  the  paper  said  he'd  put  in  every  name, 
From  a  Revelation  Daughter  to  each  Colossal  Dame. 

"  I  suppose  he  knows  just  what  is  right  in  sortin'  out  the  list, 
For  maybe  he  thinks  some  is  seed  and  some  is  only  grist. 
He  said  he  'd  say  my  social  was  "researchy,  delly  crame"- 
This  sounds  to  me  as  if  it  was  a  mighty  stylish  name. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  35 

"  Now,  listen  to  that  music,  and  the  tootin'  of  them  horns  — 
It  makes  me  feel  like  dancin',  if  it  wasn't  for  my  corns. 
I've  a  cracker- jack  high  singer,  that's  a  comin'  after  while 
To  give  you  all  the  op'ry  songs,  just  in  the  latest  style." 

The  band  played  on,  the  singer  came,  which  Mrs.  Snob  did  please; 

She  bowed  and  scraped,  she  laughed  and  grinned,  and  bobbed  her 
head  with  ease; 

Her  gloves  had  burst  with  shaking  hands — she  did  not  seem  to 
care, 

She  only  said  she  had  the  stuff  to  buy  five  hundred  pair. 

And  as  the  guests  bade  her  adieu,  each  one  in  turn  did  say  : 
"  Dear  Mrs.  Snob,  we've  had,  indeed,  a  most  delightful  day." 

1 '  L,a  sakes  alive  !  you  don't  say  so  !    of  course,  I  thought  you 
would; 

I  spent  as  much  on  this  affair  as  anybody  could." 

But,  as  each  woman  drove  away,  each  to  the  other  said  : 
' '  How  terrible  it  was  to  see  a  woman  so  ill-bred 
Aspiring  for  a  social  place  among  our  favored  few. 
Such  plutocrats  as  Mrs.  Snob  will  surely  never  do. 

"For  society,  in  such  a  case,  will  go  from  bad  to  worse, 
And  credentials  for  the  future  will  simply  be  a  purse. 
If  thus,  pretense  and  ignorance,  within  our  lines  are  linked, 
A  social  aristocracy  will  soon  become  extinct." 


36 


A  PARVENU  RECEPTION. 


When  Mr.  Snob  returned  at  night,  his  loving  partner  said  : 

"  Well,  Bill,  my  dear;  I  think  we've  knocked  all  socials  in  the 
head. 

I  acted,  Bill,  most  beautiful  ;   my  manners  were  the  best  ; 
We  're  right  on  top,  forever,  now,  to  swim  with  all  the  rest." 

Bill  took  her  hand  and  said  with  glee  :   "  You  're  just  a  bully  gal 
For  runnin'  so  successful,  your  first  great  musicale. 
But  I  've  been  told  a  piece  of  news,  which  you  '11  be  glad  to  hear  ; 
My  name  will  head  the  ticket  as  a  Congressman  this  year.  '  ' 


THE  ANGLOMANIAC  IN  THE  ROCKIES. 


Tl  7K  have  met  the  Anglomaniac — a  nuisance  to  abate; 

*  *    With  turned-up  trousers,  and  a  walk  that' s  rolling  in  its  gait  ; 
With  a  short  and  stylish  topcoat,  a  monocle,  and  cane 
Whose  head  reposes  in  his  mouth,  to  make  him  look  insane. 

A  snob,  of  deepest,  darkest  dye,  with  an  imitation  drawl, 
And  a  nondescript  demeanor,  with  no  significance  at  all; 
Whose  inadequate  pretensions  deserve  but  laugh  and  scorn, 
As  he  aims  to  be  a  type  of  man  who  never  yet  was  born. 

He  says  he's  truly  English  to  the  marrow  of  his  bone, 
And  grieves  the  Yankee  nation  is  so  vulgar  in  its  tone. 
He  mourns  that  such  misfortune  existed  on  the  earth 
As  to  make  this  "  blarsted  country"  the  region  of  his  birth. 

If  the  Roentgen  rays  could  take  him,  we  would  see  the  empty  place 
Which  other  men  have  brains  to  fill,  within  the  cranium's  space. 
And  beneath  the  smooth  exterior  of  his  well-cut  London  vest, 
We'd  see  the  stupid,  vain  conceit,  that  fills  his  selfish  breast. 

(37) 


38  THE  ANGI.OMANIAC  IN  THE  ROCKIES. 

He  was  touring  through  the  Rockies  and  came  to  Circle  A,  @ 
And  said  that  if  we  did  not  care,  that  he  would  like  to  stay, 
To  see  the  inside  working  of  a  truly  Western  ranch, 
And  to  study  cattle -raising  in  every  root  and  branch. 

So  we  told  him  he  was  welcome,  to  make  himself  at  home, 
And  on  the  range  to  wander,  as  the  other  cattle  roam. 
But  this  silly  imitation  did  nothing  else  but  laud 
Every  English  trait  or  custom  which  struck  him  when  abroad. 

He  criticized  our  horses,  our  bronchos,  and  our  mules, 
And  looked  at  all  the  cowboys  as  if  he  thought  them  fools; 
He  scrutinized  the  cattle,  and  wondered  they  could  thrive 
On  such  very  scanty  pasture  and  still  be  kept  alive. 

The  boys  could  scarcely  help  a  smile  at  the  airs  that  he  assumed, 

When  he  said  the  cows  in  England  looked  as  if  they  all  were 
groomed. 

"And  the  Southdown  mutton,"  smacking  lips,  "there's  nothing 
like  it  here ; 

For  I  find  the  meat  quite  tasteless  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  steer. 

"Those  'Puncher'  saddles,  as  you  say,  are  very  rough,  indeed; 
I  wonder,  with  their  heavy  weight,  you  accomplish  any  speed. 
Those  tapederos !    they '  re  only  fit  for  a  bandit  or  a  thief. 
And  when  you  take  them  off,  I'm  sure  the  beast  must  feel  relief. 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  39 

"And  those  'round-ups'  that  you  talk  about!   Why  let  your  stock 
run  wild  ? 

This  senseless  course,  I  think,  would  be  apparent  to  a  child. 
Why  not  house  them,  as  in  England,  in  a  large,  good  cattle  shed, 
And  have  a  stated  time  arranged  at  which  they  could  be  fed  ? 

"  Your  ranch  is  very  barren,  he  suggested,  after  while; 

I  should  think  you  ought  to  fix  your  grounds  in  better  kind  of  style. 

In  all  the  English  parks  I  've  seen,  upon  the  other  side, 

In  landscape  gardening,  as  an  art,  they  take  uncommon  pride. 

"I  see  no  flower  beds  around,  when  they  could  add  so  much 
To  your  primitive  surroundings,  by  an  artistic  touch 
Of  color  to  the  landscape,  which  no  one  will  deny, 
Adds  beauty  to  the  outlook,  against  a  western  sky. 

"  There  are  roses  and  chrysanthemums,  magnolia  blossoms,  too  ; 
With  jessamine,  carnation,  and  forget-me-nots  so  blue  ; 
And  o'er  your  cabin  you  could  train  some  pretty  trailing  vine, 
To  hide  the  roughened  timbers,  as  they  gracefully  entwine. 

"Why,  the  peasantry  of  Europe,  e'en  of  the  humblest  kind, 

Seem  to  bear  this  sense  of  beauty  forever  in  their  mind  ; 

We  look  upon  the  cottages,  thus  easily  bedecked, 

And  the  taste  that's  here  exhibited  commands  a  man's  respect." 


40  THE  ANGI.OMANIAC  IN  THE  ROCKIES. 

The  cowboys  got  so  tired  of  his  supercilious  airs, 
They  thought  they'd  like  to  feed  him  to  the  coyotes  or  the  bears, 
But  they  only  waited  for  a  chance,  as  they  do  with  tenderfeet, 
To  bring  him  to  his  senses  about  his  vain  conceit. 

But  Sandy  Hale  was  tearing  mad,  and  said  in  accents  rude, 
I  don't  suppose  you  ever  heard  of  Western  altitude; 
No  matter  how  a  ranchman  plants,  on  all  the  land  he  owns, 
He  can' t  raise  every  fruit  and  flower  that  grow  in  tropic  zones. 

When  a  ranch  is  nigh  to  'timber-line,'  why,  any  fool  would  know, 
You  can't  make  tiger  lilies  and  johnny- jump-ups  grow. 

Why,  man  !  perhaps  you  never  thought,  we  're  two  miles  in  the 
air, 

Which  is  n't  the  locality  for  horticulture  rare. 

But  we  've  all  got  this  advantage  in  being  up  so  high: 
We've  odds  against  those  men  abroad,  in  a  transit  to  the  sky, 
For  when  we  'cinch'  on  our  angel  wings,  we  '11  handicap  the  rest, 
And  land  ahead  of  every  one,  whose  soaring  is  the  best. 

If  it 's  fancy  landscape  gardening  that  you  would  like  to  do, 
In  a  region  that  would  pay  you,  where  the  altitude  is  new, 
If  you  'd  make  a  name  forever,  that  would  positively  speak  — 
Just  try  your  hand  at  planting  on  the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  41 

Just  run  some  steam  pipes  up  the  sides,  enclose  the  top  with  glass, 
Haul  up  a  million  tons  of  earth,  in  which  to  sow  your  grass; 
In  this  novel  summer-garden,  plant  all  your  vines  and  trees, 
Where  men  could  listen  to  the  band  and  drink  their  wine  in  ease. 

This  English  imitation  scanned  the  cowboy  with  disdain, 
And  said  he  would  not  condescend  to  beat  him  with  his  cane; 
For  insolence  so  horrid  was  only  worthy  of  a  beast, 
And  quite  beneath  his  dignity  to  notice  in  the  least. 

Then  the  cowboys  gave  a  merry  yell,  and  said,  with  one  accord: 
"  I/et  's  hear  some  more  fine  stories  of  when  you  were  abroad; 
Go  to  the  English  Channel,  it 's  the  proper  place  to  drown ; 
We  '11  lend  a  good,  strong  lariat,  and  rocks  to  pull  you  down." 


A  TENDERFOOT  AND  THE  BRONCHO* 


A  tenderfoot  to  Stirrup  Ranch  came  from  an  Eastern  college — 
His  head  was  packed  with  ancient  lore  and  scientific  knowledge; 
He  had  pity  on  the  cowboys,  and  mourned  that  they  should  be 
So  benighted,  that  it  seemed  to  him  "just  imbecility." 

' 'Now,  if  there  is  a  thing  I  know,"  he  said  to  them  one  day, 
"  It  is  to  train  a  fractious  horse  in  a  scientific  way. 
You  know,  in  all  the  riding- schools  we  have  throughout  the  East, 
We  learn  the  traits,  both  good  and  bad,  that  center  in  the  beast- 

"A  horse  soon  knows  his  master,  I  suppose  you've  often  heard, 
And  a  strong,  magnetic  person  can  conquer  with  a  word; 

You  touch  him  here,  you  touch  him  there,  you  make  him  feel 
your  power, 

And  I  venture  to  assert  the  fact,  you  '11  subdue  him  in  an  hour. 

"You  cowboys,"  he  continued,  "have  no  method  when  you  train; 
Your  horses  take  advantage,  when  they  have  too  free  a  rein; 
They  go  with  no  decided  gait — they  rush  and  run  with  speed, 
When  a  little  rigid  discipline  is  really  what  they  need." 

(42) 


RANCH  TAI.ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  43 

Soon  Billy  White  roped  in  a  horse,  and  brought  it  to  his  side, 
Saying,  "  Mister,  here  's  a  broncho  I  would  like  to  see  you  ride; 
Sometimes  he  needs  'uncorking',  but  when  that  time  occurs 
I  ram  a  hold  on  forward  cinch  with  a  heavy  dose  of  spurs. 

'That 's  wrong,  my  friend,"  he  answered  back;   "that  way  will 
never  do ; 

To  train  unruly  horses  is  a  matter,  I  tell  you, 

Which  needs  a  little  patience,  but  in  time  he'll  gentle  be  — 

I  '11  show  you  all  how  quickly  he  has  confidence  in  me." 

So  Billy  White  and  Hal  McClure,  and  Alec  Mermod,  too, 
Stood  'round  to  see  this  tenderfoot  perform  his  capers  new. 
He  walked  around  from  head  to  tail,  and  figured  up  his  size, 
And  then  stood  off  full  twenty  feet,  to  catch  the  broncho's  eyes. 

He  said  to  all:  "He  sees  me  there,  and  then  he  see  me  here, 
And  as  I  stroke  his  flowing  mane,  he  knows  that  I  am  near; 
So  now  he  sees  I  have  the  power,  and  sees  I  am  the  master; 
I  '11  show  you  how  to  ride  him  now,  and  stick  to  him  like  plaster. " 

With  his  foot  upon  the  stirrup,  and  his  hand  upon  the  horn, 
He  threw  his  leg  the  other  side  this  horse— a  broncho  born  ; 
And  as  he  did  he  looked  around,  as  if  for  admiration, 
That  all  might  think  he  was  the  man  to  fill  the  situation. 


44  A  TENDERFOOT  AND  THE  BRONCHO. 

But  sad  to  say,  his  power  great  had  failed  to  do  its  work, 
For  then  began  the  bucking  feat,  with  its  spasmodic  jerk. 
A  second  buck,  and  all  at  once  his  stirrups  he  did  leave. 
While  the  horse  then  took  to  ''swapping  ends,"  and  gave  a  heavy 
heave; 

Which  sent  the  tenderfoot  so  high ,  he  thought  he  '  d  ' '  hit  the  trail' ' 
To  heaven,  or  some  other  place,  to  tell  his  little  tale; 
He  struck  the  ground  full  forty-feet  from  where  the  broncho  stood, 
And  landed  square  upon  his  back,  across  a  log  of  wood. 

His  mind  began  to  wander,  while  the  cowboys  gave  a  cheer, 
And  cried:  "He  could  not  ride  a  sheep  or  a  little  yearling  steer." 
So,  as  they  all  were  laughing  loud,  they  placed  him  in  a  chair, 
And  said:   "Old  boy,  we  think  that  now  the  broncho  sees  you 
there. ' ' 

"You  had  better  try  your  power  in  a  little  different  way; 

For  when  you  come  to  Stirrup  Ranch,"  the  cowboys  all  did  say, 

"A  broncho  soon  will  show  you  that  he  is  n't  such  a  fool, 

As  to  need  your  fine  instruction  from  an  Eastern  riding-school. 

"  Go  back  at  once  where  you  belong,  with  patent-leather  boots, 
And  smoke  your  scented  cigarettes,  and  wear  lawn-tennis  suits. 
The  way  to  "bust  a  broncho"  is  a  little  bit  of  knowledge 
You  can  not  learn  from  teachers  in  a  Massachusetts  college." 


THE  TENDERFOOT  AND  THE  BRONCHO. 


LEAVING  THE  RANCH. 


NOW,  ever  since  that  tenderfoot  came  here  to  stay  last  Fall, 
The  ranch  don't  suit  our  Jonathan  in  any  way  at  all ; 
He  's  took  to  readin'  all  the  books  that  chap  left  here  behind, 
And  work  amongst  the  cattle  is  n't  suited  to  his  mind. 

There  never  was  a  smarter  boy  a-shooting  elk  and  deer, 
And  Jonathan  could  not  be  beat  a-roundin'  up  a  steer. 

He  could  plow   the  biggest  kind  of   patch,  and  reap  and   hoe 
and  dig, 

And  there  was  no  better  hand  around  in  cuttin'  up  a  pig. 

But  now  he  says  he's  goin'  in  for  different  kind  of  work 
Among  the  learned  professions,  and  will  study  like  a  Turk 
To  get  his  own  diploma  and  a  lawyer's  fine  degree. 
Well,  well,  my  boy;  I  wont  say  much,  but  only  wait  and  see. 

A  thought  has  just  been  lately  a-stickin'  in  my  craw, 
Wonderin'  if  the  boy  has  '  'gumption' '  to  understand  the  law. 
It 's  a  most  perplexing  study  to  master  every  branch, 
And  I  know  it  would  be  easier  to  stay  upon  the  ranch. 

(45) 


46  LEAVING  THE  RANCH. 

'T  is  now  full  twenty  years  or  more — I  left  the  State  of  Maine 
To  try  my  luck  out  in  the  West  and  a  better  fortune  gain; 
On  New  England  rocky  farms  I  found  I  could  n't  earn  my  bread, 
And  so  I  took  to  raisin'  stock  out  in  this  land  instead. 

I  've  paid  for  every  acre,  and  got  cattle  all  about, 
Which  will  give  me  quite  a  penny  when  I  go  to  "cut  them  out." 
The  Bar  1^  X  (LX)  is  just  as  good  as  any  on  the  range, 
There  is  no  other  fancy  breed  with  which  I  would  exchange. 

I  '11  spend  my  days  upon  the  ranch  ;  I  never  care  to  move  ; 
But  Jonathan  says  he  to  me,  that's  gettin'  in  a  groove. 
He  wants  to  gain,  he  told  me,  some  notions  broad  and  wide, 
And  says  he  's  bound  to  see  the  world  upon  another  side. 

For  all  these  things  you  have  to  have  a  certain  kind  of  knack, 
And  this  is  just  the  common  sense  that  many  people  lack. 
They  think  their  plow  is  runnin'  smooth  and  so  begin  to  brag ; 

Then,  all  at  once,  before  they  know,  they  've  struck  a  mighty 
snag. 

But  I  see  that  Jonathan  is  "sot,"  so  I  '11  let  him  go  and  try, 
Though  he  must  spend  the  money  I  meant  to  give  him  when  I  die; 
And  so,  Maria,  just  begin  to  pack  his  travellin' -box- 
Put  in  the  comfort  that  you  knit  and  his  woolen  winter  socks. 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  47 

And  give  him,  too,  my  stout  brogans  and  my  dark-blue  flannel 

shirt, 

'Tis  just  the  kind  that 's  fit  for  town,  for  it  doesn't  show  the  dirt; 
And  those  yaller  leather  mittens,  that  I  bought  so  cheap  last  Spring, 
To  keep  his  fingers  nice  and  warm,  will  be  the  very  thing. 

And  when  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  really  just  suppose 
He  ought  to  have  a  spick  and  span  new  suit  of  heavy  clothes ; 
Perhaps,  the  usefullest  would  be  snuff -colored  corduroy, 
'  T  will  last  forever,  and  I  think  would  really  suit  the  boy. 

My  mother  use  to  think,  for  me  no  other  stuff  would  do, 

And  once  a  year  she  scrubbed  my  clothes  and  made  them  look 
like  new. 

Why,  those  very  pants  are  hanging  on  a  hook  up  in  the  loft ; 

They  're  kinder  hard  and  stiff,  I  know,  for  age  don't  make 'em 
soft. 

But  they  'd  be  too  short  for  Jonathan,  for  his  legs  are  thin  and 
long, 

While  I  was  built  quite  heavy  set,  and  stumpy,  stout,  and  strong. 
He  '11  miss  the  grub  he  gets  at  home — his  venison  and  cakes, 
His  sausages  and  bacon,  and  the  bread  his  mother  bakes. 

But  dry  your  tears,  Maria,  we  must  give  the  boy  a  chance, 
Although  it  almost  breaks  my  heart  to  have  him  leave  the  ranch. 
He  '11  miss  his  "pitchin'  broncho"  he's  rode  for  many  a  year  ; 
The  highest  "bucker"  in  the  State,  but  he  never  had  a  fear. 


48  LEAVING  THE  RANCH. 

He  '11  miss  the  "prairie  schooner,"  the  old  gray  ploddin'  mules, 
A-rustlin'  'round  in  Denver  to  all  them  lawyer  schools  ; 
A-riding  on  the  cable-cars,  and  the  fast  electric  roads, 

When  he  doesn't  know  what  minute  they  "11  be  pitchin'  off  their 
loads. 

I  need  the  help  of  Jonathan  for  one  important  thing— 

I  was  thinking  that  I'd  "prospect"  up  on  the  ranch  this  Spring; 

For  they  've  struck  it  pretty  rich,  I  hear,  a  mile  or  so  away,  - 

And  the  "Copper  King"  just  branches  off  toward  my  land,  they 
say. 

But  he  says  he'd  rather  use  his  tongue  than  a  shovel  or  a  pick; 
He  can  make  more  gold  by  argument,  and  make  it  fast  and  quick. 
If  this  is  so,  of  course,  I  feel  no  money  would  I  grudge, 
If  I  could  see  my  Jonathan  turn  out  a  learned  judge. 

But  still,  with  all  the  glory  of  a  lawyer's  grand  career, 
I  'd  rather  be  a  ranchman  in  the  "round-up"  every  year  ; 
I  'd  rather  roam  in  canons,  'neath  the  shadows  of  the  peaks, 
Than  have  that  mighty  gift  of  gab,  with  which  a  lawyer  speaks. 


OLD  EPHRAIM'S  LAST  FEED. 


HPHE  round-up  in  the  Rockies,  in  the  pleasant  month  of  June, 
•*•     Had  been  about  completed,  and  the  light  of  stars  and  moon 
Shone  down  upon  the  cabin  of  the  famous  Stirrup  Ranch, 

Where  a  Southern  wind   was  blowing,  gently  stirring  leaf  and 
branch. 

After  branding  ninety  yearlings,  and  corralling  all  the  steers, 
The  cowboys  turned  in  early  for  the  sleep  that  knows  no  fears ; 
But  piles  of  eggs  and  bacon  had  disappeared  from  sight, 
To  prove  the  healthy  quality  of  a  ''puncher's"  appetite. 

No  cards  were  dealt  that  evening — each  sought  his  welcome  bed, 
While  not  a  thought  of  prowling  bears  had  entered  any  head. 
None  dreamed  a  savage  grizzly,  hidden  not  far  away, 
Would  pounce  upon  their  cattle  before  the  light  of  day. 

But  thirsting  for  a  taste  of  blood,  the  wild  and  hungry  beast 
Stole  softly  from  the  ambush  to  begin  his  ghoulish  feast ; 
And  charging  down  upon  the  bunch  this  intruder,  fierce  and  bold, 
Soon  sunk  his  teeth  and  deadly  claws  deep  in  a  three-year-old. 

(49) 


50  OI/D  EPHRAIM'S  LAST  FEED. 

Then  in  another  instant  he  had  laid  his  victim  low, 
Who  could  offer  no  resistance  to  its  dread  and  fearless  foe; 
Whose  busy  jaws  were  munching,  with  growling,  greedy  sound, 
The  warm  and  bleeding  carcass,  as  it  lay  upon  the  ground. 

But  when  his  hunger  was  appeased,  the  savage  grizzly  bear, 
With  soft  and  stealthy  footsteps,  crept  again  within  his  lair; 
And  with  his  stomach  surfeited,  no  vigil  did  he  keep, 
But  in  a  heavy  stupor  he  soon  was  fast  asleep. 

The  clock  had  just  struck  seven,  and  the  sun  had  risen  high, 
While  all  the  cowboys  of  the  ranch  were  moving  on  the  fly 
In  saddling  up  the  bronchos  and  preparing  for  the  day, 
When  they  would  ship  their  yearly  stock  to  ( 'feeders' '  far  away. 

But  in  rounding  up  the  cattle  they  discovered,  with  surprise, 
The  bones  of  one  poor  creature  lying  just  before  their  eyes. 
A  moment's  glance  sufficed  to  show  the  mischief  that  was  done, 
So  every  "puncher"  on  the  ranch  was  quick  to  load  his  gun. 

Each  jumped  astride  his  broncho,  to  ride  the  country  o'er, 
To  hunt  that  bold,  marauding  bear,  and  bring  him  to  their  door. 
And,  as  their  luck  was  with  them,  soon  behind  some  fallen  trees, 
They  spied  the  big,  brown  grizzly,  sleeping  soundly  at  his  ease. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  ov  THE  ROCKIES.  51 

Then  Billy  White  dismounted,  as  he  said  :  "I  do  not  care, 

I  want  to  have  a  tussle  with  that  darned  old  grizzly  bear ; 

I  won't  shoot  him  while  he 's  sleeping,  let  him  stand  up  like  a  man, 

And  I  '11  pop  him  into  kingdom  come,  if  any  fellow  can." 

"We  owe  that  thieving  beast  a  grudge,  and  since  we've  got  a 
chance 

We'll  make  him  pay  for  eating  free  lunches  on  our  ranch. 
We  don't  propose  to  keep  our  steers  to  fill  his  ugly  hide, 
And  we'll  let  him  aid  digestion  now  with  leaden  pills  inside." 

As  Billy  finished  speaking,  the  bear,  taken  by  surprise, 
Growled  fiercely  at  the  cowboy,  with  frenzy  in  its  eyes; 
With  gnashing  teeth,  erect  and  bold,  upon  its  legs  it  stood, 

Then  rushed  for  Billy  with  a  roar,  through  the  cactus  and  the 
wood. 

Billy's  courage  was  undaunted — it  stood  the  fiery  test, 
For,  like  a  flash,  he  raised  his  gun,  aimed  at  the  shaggy  breast; 
For  the  hunters  in  the  Rockies  say  the  time  to  shoot  a  bear 
Is  when  he's  walking  toward  you,  with  his  nose  up  in  the  air. 

And  the  cowboys  watch  him  closely,  abiding  by  this  rule; 
So  when  the  bear  walks  like  a  man  he  falls,  like  any  fool; 
For  then  he  has  the  spot  exposed,  where  bullets  go  right  through, 
And  turning  up  his  ugly  toes  is  all  that  he  can  do. 


52  OI,D  BPHRAIM'S  LAST  FEED. 

With  a  mighty  crash  fell  Ephraim  before  the  deadly  shot, 
And  he  struggled  in  his  death  throes  from  the  ball  so  stinging  hot, 
While  Billy  spoke,  triumphant:  "As  sure  as  I'm  alive, 
I  was  bound  to  get  that  critter  with  my  trusty  forty-five. ' ' 

The  cowboys  gathered  round  him,  saying:   "Bully!  Bill,  for  you; 
'Twas  lucky  for  your  gizzards  that  your  aim  was  quick  and  true. 
For  if,  my  boy,  it  hadn't  been,  you'd  be  a  goner,  sure; 
For  hugging  bears  can  break  the  bones,  no  man  can  mend  or  cure. 

They  turned  the  body  over,  as  it  rested  on  its  side, 

And  with  a  sharp  and  ready  knife  they  soon  took  off  the  hide; 

O'er  the  back  of  one  fine  broncho  they  threw  his  tawny  skin, 

Then  "hit  the  trail"  to  Stirrup  Ranch  in  the  pace  that's  sure  to 
win. 

They  stretched  it  out  upon  the  roof  and  dried  it  in  the  sun, 

And  all  the  boys  looked  on  with  pride  when  soon  the  work  was 
done; 

And  often,  when  the  Winter's  wind  is  breaking  bough  and  branch, 
They  sit  upon  this  grizzly's  skin  on  the  floor  at  Stirrup  Ranch. 

They  spin  their  yarns,  they  tell  their  tales  of  daring  and  of  strife, 
And  all  the  bold  adventures  that  fill  a  cowboy's  life, 
When,  with  lariat  and  rifle,  they  roam  the  Rockies  through, 
To  bag  the  biggest  mountain  game  a  hunter  ever  knew. 


LANKY  BILL  AND  THE  PARSON* 


In  the  good  old  days  of  '89, 

When  the  boom  was  on  in  Creede, 
The  miners  came  in  thousands  strong, 

To  gather  gold  with  greed. 

The  "prospects"  all  they  gobbled  up  — 

No  stranger  had  a  show ; 
They  thought  that  cussing  helped  along, 

And  triggers  were  not  slow. 

There  was  no  law  to  guide  their  lives 

Between  the  wrong  and  right, 
So  quarrels  were  adjusted  by 

A  rough-and-tumble  fight. 

And  when  it  was  a  serious  case 

A  weapon  was  at  hand, 
Which  laid  the  victim  quickly  down, 

To  grovel  in  the  sand. 

(53) 


54  IvANKY   BlU,    AND   THE   PARSON. 

The  boss  of  all  those  contests  was 
A  chap  called  I^anky  Bill, 

The  men  all  knew  his  aim  was  good 
He  always  shot  to  kill. 

By  his  decision  to  abide 
The  men  were  all  agreed, 

To  make  his  word  unwritten  law 
In  the  mining  camp  of  Creede. 

Men  lived  in  every  sort  of  shack, 
Of  plain  slab-sided  style, 

And  were  content  with  scanty  fare 
If  they  could  make  their  pile. 

And  in  their  haste  to  make  it  soon 
Ne'  er  gave  a  nail  or  board 

To  build  a  good  old  meeting-house, 
For  service  to  the  Lord. 

One  Sabbath  day  the  parson  came, 

And  eagerly  did  seek 
Among  the  miners  for  a  crowd, 

That  he  might  plainly  speak 


RANCH  TAI,:E;S  OF  THE:  ROCKIES.  55 

About  a  future  meeting-house, 

Which  they  should  surely  start— 
This  was  a  mission  in  his  life, 

Held  closely  to  his  heart. 

And  as  he  looked  around  the  street 

He  spied  a  crowd  quite  soon, 
But  the  men  had  all  assembled 

In  the  lighted-up  saloon. 

He  saw  each  one,  with  anxious  face, 

Watch  eagerly  the  wheel, 
Which,  as  a  thief,  turned  in  its  course 

Their  hard-earned  gold  to  steal. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  poker  chips, 

The  rattling  of  the  dice, 
But  did  not  understand  the  games 

That  needed  such  device. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  clinking  glass 

In  this  unruly  crowd  ; 
He  heard  the  contests  over  cards, 

In  all  their  voices  loud. 


56  LANKY  Biu,  AND  THE;  PARSON. 

Undaunted  in  his  zealous  work, 

He  boldly  entered  in, 
And  shook  the  hand  of  L,anky  Bill, 

In  this  abode  of  sin. 

Bill  greeted  him  with  smiles,  and  said  : 
' '  Why,  parson,  howdy  do  ? 

Is  there  any  thing  you  'd  like  to  ask, 
That  I  could  do  for  you?" 

"Yes,  I  would  like  to  speak  awhile," 

The  parson  quick  replied. 
"  That  you  shall  do,"  said  Bill  at  once, 

And  then  he  loudly  cried. 

"  Keep  still,  you  men;  lay  down  your  cards 

This  is  the  parson's  day. 
Now,  listen  with  attentive  ears 

To  all  he  has  to  say. ' ' 

Then  all  was  silence  in  that  place  ; 

None  dared  to  speak  a  word. 
They  knew  quite  well  'twas  L,anky  Bill, 

Whose  voice  they  just  had  heard. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  57 

The  parson  soon  began  to  speak, 

And  from  the  Bible  read. 
He  told  them  all  to  be  good  men, 

In  that  old  camp  of  Creede. 

He  spoke  about  their  former  homes  — 

That  dearest  place  of  old  ; 
Of  mothers,  wives,  and  little  ones, 

They  left  to  seek  for  gold. 

And  when  he  urged  them,  for  the  sake 

Of  all  those  tender  ties, 
To  lead  a  better  life,  he  saw 

The  tears  were  in  their  eyes. 

He  told  them  he  had  come  to  Creede 

To  see  if  he  could  build 
A  meeting-house,  where  all  could  go 

To  hear  what  God  had  willed. 

A  few  words  more,  then  Parson  Jones 

Stepped  down  upon  the  floor, 
And  bade  them  all  a  kind  good-by 

As  he  went  out  the  door. 


58  IvANKY    BlU,   AND   THE   PARvSON. 

Then  I^anky  Bill  stood  up  at  once  — 
"  I  '11  tell  you,  boys,"  he  said, 

"  The  parson  's  right  in  his  advice  ; 
We'll  have  some  sort  of  shed." 

"I  '11  pass  the  hat  to  every  one, 

So  drop  your  dollars  in, 
We '  11  put  the  parson  in  a  place 

As  neat  as  any  pin." 

So,  when  the  hat  was  passed  around, 

Bill  counted  up  the  dust  — 
"Just  ninety-six  'cold  plunks,'  "  he  cried, 

"A  meeting-house,  or  bust." 

Then  I^anky  took  the  ninety- six, 
And  played  it  "on  the  green." 

The  way  he  threw  those  bones  around, 
His  like  had  ne'er  been  seen. 

He  threw  a  seven,  then  eleven, 
And  then  he  threw  a  five  ; 

When  next  he  rolled,  a  tray  and  deuce  — 
He  skinned  them  all  alive. 


RANCH  TAI.ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  59 

He  placed  his  money  on  the  black, 

And  next  upon  the  red; 
And  as  the  little  ball  rolled  round 

It  dropped  just  when  he  said. 

In  the  game  of  draw  he  took  a  hand 

With  confidence  and  grace, 
For  he  could  bet  just  what  he  pleased — 

No  limit  did  he  place. 

The  cards  were  dealt,  the  jack  pot  came, 

And  then  it  was  Bill's  play; 
He  said:   "I'll  see  that  fifty  raise— 

I  think  I'm  going  to  stay." 

Then  came  the  draw.     How  many  cards  ? 

The  task  was  really  hard, 
As  all  stood  pat,  but  Bill  replied: 

"Just  pass  me  o'er  one  card." 

The  bets  began  to  roll  quite  high, 

Until  a  "call"  was  made, 
And  then  they  all  threw  down  their  hands, 

From  a  diamond  to  a  spade. 


60  I^ANKY  BlW,  AND  THE   PARSON. 

A  "full"  was  there  and  then  four  tens- 
"  Four  kings,"  cried  Jimmy  Maces— 

"I'll  take  that  pot,"  old  Bill  replied  — 
The  "cuter"  and  four  aces. 

Bill's  luck  was  with  him  all  that  night  — 

It  was  his  turn  to  win; 
As  every  time  he  made  a  play 

He  raked  the  good  coin  in. 

So,  when  the  morning  came  around, 

His  little  pile  he  counted  — 
"Eight  hundred  dollars  to  the  cent"— 

And  then  his  horse  he  mounted. 

He  had  not  ridden  very  far 

When  he  met  old  Parson  Jones; 

"  Here  is  the  cash,  old  man,"  he  said, 
' '  We'll  hear  them  gospel  tones. ' ' 

"Take  this,"  said  Bill,  "eight  hundred  plunks- 
It's  every  cent  for  you; 

Go  build  your  little  meeting  house, 
And  I  will  take  a  pew. ' ' 


RANCH  TAI^ES  OE  THE  ROCKIES.  61 

The  Parson  stood  and  looked  at  Bill — 

The  tears  rolled  down  his  cheek; 
"  My  dear,  good  man,  I  thank  you  much," 

Was  all  that  he  could  speak. 

In  three  weeks'  time  the  church  was  built, 

And  Parson  Jones  held  sway; 
Men  flocked  to  hear  him  by  the  score, 

To  sing  the  psalms  and  pray. 

The  faithful  man  worked  hard  and  long 

In  that  old  camp  at  Creede, 
And  soon  'twas  seen,  some  really  tried 

A  better  life  to  lead. 

And  now,  to-day,  this  parson  keeps 

Within  his  memory  still, 
A  tender  thought  for  one  called  "bad," 

Whose  name  was  I/anky  Bill. 


MY  SWEETHEART  ON  THE  RANCH. 


Oh,  my  sweetheart,  she's  a  beauty,  and  lives  on  Circle  X  ® ; 

Her  cheeks  are  just  as  ruddy  as  a  rose; 
Her  smiles  are  bright  as  sunshine,  and  her  words  can  never  vex 

The  lover  whose  affection  she  well  knows. 

We  have  wandered  in  the  canon,  'neath  the  green  and  shady  pine, 
And  drank  from  out  the  crystal  mountain  stream 

A  nectar  draught  more  welcome  than  the  sweet  falernian  wine, 
That  in  the  poet's  glass  did  often  gleam. 

We  have  picked  from  out  the  crevice  of  the  bare  and  barren  rock 

The  blossoms  we  have  looked  on  with  delight, 
And  the  little  chip  munks  running  never  gave  her  nerves  a  shock 

As  they  scampered  o'er  the  stones  within  our  sight. 

Oh,  my  sweetheart,  she's  a  daisy  and  rides  her  broncho  well, 

And  leads  me  off  a  dashing,  lively  pace; 
But  astride  a  "  puncher's"  saddle  no  danger  ere  befell 

The  girl  who  shows  her  courage  in  her  face. 

(62) 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  63 

And  the  rifle  that  she  handles  never  misses  steady  aim, 

As  the  fleeting  elk  and  deer  before  her  know; 
A  shot,  and  all  is  over,  and  she  sees  the  fallen  game 

In  all  their  pride  and  beauty  lying  low. 

Oh,  my  sweetheart,  I  am  hoping  when  the  fates  are  good  and 
kind, 

And  the  ranch  of  double  B  (BB)  is  all  my  own, 
I  can  claim  the  girl  that  suits  both  my  fancy,  heart  and  mind, 
And  be  the  happiest  lad  the  world  has  known. 


THE  DANCE  AT  STIRRUP  RANCH, 

Respectfully  inscribed  to  my  friend,   Alec  Mermod, 
of  Stirrup  Ranch,  Colorado. 


There  was  hurrying  and  scurrying 

In  the  cabin  on  the  ranch: 
Girls  were  scrubbing  floors  with  vigor, 

Boys  cut  the  greenest  branch 
From  the  cedar  and  the  pine  trees 

To  decorate  the  walls, 
'Till  the  rooms  looked  all  as  nobby 

As  old  baronial  halls. 

For  the  last  September  ' '  round  up ' ' 

Had  been  finished  with  success, 
As  the  jolly,  ruddy  cowboys 

Did  in  their  pride  confess. 
So  to  celebrate  the  branding, 

They  said  they'd  like  a  chance 
To  ask  the  girls  from  Diamond  T  ^ 

And  have  a  little  dance. 

And  Double  X  (XX)  can  furnish  some, 

So  we'll  invite  them  in, 
And  have  old  Wilson  play  the  horn 

And  Jim  the  violin. 
We'll  each  corral  the  girl  we  love 

And  in  our  places  file, 
While  in  the  old  Virginia  reel 

We'll  dance  in  cowboy  style. 

(64) 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  65 

Just  as  the  sun  was  setting, 

Along  the  mountain  road 
Came  the  ' '  prairie  schooners, ' '  holding 

Each  merry,  laughing  load. 
Their  happy,  ringing  voices 

Filled  all  the  air  around, 
While  rocky  slopes,  in  melody, 

Re-echoed  with  the  sound. 


The  girls  were  dressed  in  muslins 

They  had  washed  and  ironed  with  care, 
And  down  beneath  their  bonnets 

Hung  their  curls  of  shining  hair. 
No  jewels  decked  the  fingers 

That  had  often  milked  and  churned, 
But  the  color  in  their  faces 

Showed  the  roses  they  had  earned. 


Still  the  faithful  mules  climbed  upward 

With  a  steady  pace  for  miles; 
But  when  the  girls  reached  Stirrup  Ranch 

Each  face  was  wreathed  with  smiles. 
With  gracious  words  the  cowboys  all 

Helped  each  one  to  alight, 
And  said,  "  I  tell  you,  girls,  we'll  have 

Some  bully  fun  to-night." 


THE  DANCE  AT  STIRRUP  RANCH. 

11  We're  glad  you  came,"  said  Charlie  King, 

' '  Us  fellows  '  on  the  range ' 
Get  tired  throwing  lariats, 

And  need  a  little  change. 
To  the  music  of  the  violins 

We  can  step  a  lively  pace, 
With  the  feet  that  tapederos 

You  thought  could  only  grace." 


Then  Martha  Shinn,  from  Circle  C,  © 

Looked  up  with  roguish  fun, 
And  said:  "  I  bet  you,  boys,  I'll  dance 

Until  the  rise  of  sun; 
For  I'm  happy  when  I'm  dancing, 

I  feel  as  if  on  wings, 
I  forget  about  the  churning 

And  other  earthly  things. ' ' 


But  soon  the  dusk  began  to  fall, 

And  the  coal-oil  lamps  did  gleam 
In  their  brightness,  through  the  windows, 

Reflecting  every  beam. 
Then  Hal  McClure  called  out  aloud, 

"Strike  up  the  violin, 
Lead  out  your  partners  for  a  waltz 

And  let  the  dance  begin. ' ' 


RANCH  TAI.KS  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  67 

Old  Wilson  blew  his  ancient  horn, 

While  Jim  drew  down  his  bow, 
And  each,  with  light,  fantastic  step, 

Around  the  floor  did  go. 
The  cowboy  spurs  all  tingled  loud 

From  heavy,  high-heeled  boots, 
But  'tis  this  noise,  amid  the  dance, 

That  a  ranch  girl's  fancy  suits. 


A  two-step  next  they  danced  with  zest, 

A  polka  and  quadrille, 
When  "  swing  your  partners  "  could  be  heard. 

And  "  forward  all,"  said  Bill; 
' '  Grand  right  and  left  and  first  four  cross, ' ' 

"Then  swing  the  op 'site  girl," 
"  Come  to  your  places,  turn  around," 

"  And  all  your  corners  whirl." 


When  quite  exhausted  with  the  dance 

Bach  one  then  took  a  seat 
At  the  table  of  the  ranch  house, 

The  tempting  feast  to  eat. 
There  was  apples,  nuts  and  cider, 

With  rolls  and  cakes  heaped  high, 
Which  were  renewed  as  often  as 

The  cowboys  made  them  fly. 


68  THE  DANCE  AT  STIRRUP  RANCH. 

But  two  from  out  the  number  seemed 

To  have  no  appetite, 
For  soon  they  left  the  merry  crowd 

To  disappear  from  sight. 
They  thought  that  none  would  notice 

That  their  actions  were  so  sly, 
But  the  cowboys,  knowing  and  alert, 

Winked  to  each  a  merry  eye. 


In  a  far-off  corner  sitting, 

Tony  looked  in  Sarah's  eyes, 
And  thought  how  he  could  ask  her 

For  the  heart  that  he  would  prize. 
Long,  long  had  been  this  "puncher's"  love 

For  the  sweet  girl  by  his  side, 
But  now  he  wished  to  know  if  he 

Could  claim  her  for  his  bride? 


No  fitting  words  came  to  him, 

He  sat  in  mute  despair, 
While  the  violin  was  playing 

An  old  familiar  air. 
The  dance  had  started  up  again 

In  the  mazes  of  the  waltz, 
But  Tony  still  thought  of  the  girl 

Who  had  for  him  no  faults. 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 

At  last  he  summoned  courage, 

And  said,  in  manly  tone: 
4  (  My  darling  little  '  Maverick ' 

May  I  brand  you  for  my  own? 
I  would  like  to  be  your  owner, 

So  will  you  be  my  wife? 
And  I'll  promise  to  be  faithful 

'Till  the  'round  up'  of  my  life.' 


Sarah  trembled  with  emotion 

At  the  loving,  tender  words; 
To  her  they  were  more  welcome 

Than  the  sweetest  songs  of  birds. 
She  crept  up  close  to  Tony, 

Her  hand  in  his  did  rest, 
While  with  his  other  brawny  arm 

He  clasped  her  to  his  breast. 


But  the  dancers  saw  the  tableau, 

And  crowded  all  around, 
To  interrupt  proceedings 

In  the  bliss,  so  newly  found; 
While  the  cowboys  carried  Tony 

On  their  shoulders  'round  the  room. 
The  girls  were  kissing  Sarah, 

Amid  her  blushes'  bloom. 


THE  DANCE  AT  STIRRUP  RANCH. 

Then  both  were  seated  quickly 

In  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
While  congratulations  freely 

Upon  them  both  did  pour. 
All  formed  a  ring  about  them, 

And  danced  around  with  glee  — 
Kach  cowboy  with  his  sweetheart 

Was  a  joyful  sight  to  see. 


But  the  lovers  were  as  happy 

As  lovers  ere  could  be, 
And  received  the  homage  paid  them 

With  becoming  modesty. 
Then  Tony  stood  up,  saying: 

"We' 11  kill  a  fatted  steer, 
And  invite  you  to  a  wedding 

'  Fore  the  '  round  up '  of  next  year. ' ' 


LEAVING  THE  HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS. 


ROGRESSION,  with  her  torch  of  light, 
Came  westward  in  her  mighty  flight; 
And  with  her  came  the  White  Man's  hold; 
And  with  her  went  the  Indian  bold. 

Across  the  plains  the  pioneer 
Triumphant  came  in  his  career, 
To  build  anew  the  shrine  of  home, 
From  which  his  steps  no  more  would  roam. 


Oft  in  the  contest,  hand-to-hand 
He  met  his  foe — the  Indian  band, 
Who  sought  to  save  their  hunting  ground 
With  savage  strength  and  sinew  sound. 


(71) 


LEAVING  THE  HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS. 

But  filled  with  rage  within  his  breast, 
Against  his  pale,  unbidden  guest, 
The  Indian's  sullen  anger  stirred 
Whene'er  the  White  Man's  voice  he  heard. 


And  when,  beside  the  council  fire, 
They  met  to  smoke,  and  vent  their  ire; 
Defiant  rose  each  angry  chief, 
Whose  words  of  vengeance  veiled  his  grief. 

In  Wass'  and  Red  Moon's  faces  flamed 
The  savage  blood,  which  was  untamed. 
Talota  cried,  with  grim  Nortiez: 

'Tis  blood  alone  can  wrongs  appease." 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  73 

Severe,  joined  by  Shavenaux, 
Shrieked  out:  ' '  We  '11  die  before  we  go  ; 
Yes,  we  will  wage  a  bloody  strife — 
For  well  we  wield  the  ax  and  knife. ' ' 

With  frowning  brow,  dark  as  a  cloud, 
Alhandra  spoke  in  accents  loud : 
"We  yet  will  see  the  White  Man's  bones 
Bleach  out  on  land  the  Indian  owns." 

Then  Tapuch,  rising  from  the  ground, 
Yelled  out  the  awful  war  whoop's  sound; 
And  all  the  frenzy  of  the  hour 
Gave  to  the  cry  an  added  power. 

Oh,  sad  the  scene,  and  dark  the  day, 
When  from  the  lips  of  great  Ouray 
Fell  lamentations  for  his  race, 
Who  never  quailed  a  foe  to  face ! 

When  he  arose,  this  chieftain  old, 
Said:     "  My  warriors,  brave  and  bold, 
Thirst  not  for  blood—  the  skies  are  gray; 
Beneath  the  clouds  we  pass  away. 


74  LEAVING  THE  HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS. 

"  We  go,  we  go,  my  Indian  braves; 
We  leave  our  homes  and  father's  graves; 
The  white  man  thinks  we  have  no  heart, 
To  sunder  all  these  ties  apart. 

"We  fall,  we  fall,  as  autumn  leaves 
When  on  the  tree  the  frost  king  breathes; 
Our  destiny  and  fate  is  sealed  — 
To  force  and  numbers  we  must  yield. 

l'The  buffalo,  the  elk,  the  deer, 
Will  flee  before  the  pioneer; 
Subsistence  for  the  tribes  no  more 
Exists  as  in  the  days  of  yore. 

"  Where  now  our  humble'tepees  stand 
The  white  man's  towns  will  dot  the  land; 
Too  soon,  too  soon,  no  single  trace 
Of  Indian  blood  will  mark  the  race. ' ' 

But,  as  he  spoke,  the  aged  chief, 

In  sobs  and  tears,  found  sad  relief. 

"  Farewell,"  he  cried,  and  waved  his  hand; 

"  Farewell  forever,  Indian  land." 


RANCH  TAI,KS  OF  THE;  ROCKIES.  75 

The  dusky  squaws,  in  wailing  low, 
In  sorrow  wept  amid  their  woe, 
And  prayed:   "  Great  Spirit  of  our  race; 
Oh,  help  us  as  we  leave  this  place. 

'Twas  here  the  papoose  we  did  rear, 
'Twas  here  we  dressed  the  skins  of  deer, 
'Twas  here  we  buried  all  our  dead, 
And  here  our  daughters  chieftains  wed. 


"But  now  the  storm  breaks  in  its  force, 
Disaster  follows  in  its  course; 
And,  oh,  the  Red  Man's  squaw  will  grieve 
When  her  loved  tepee  she  must  leave." 


76  LEAVING  THE  HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS. 

Regret  was  vain  —  the  Indian  saw 
He  must  obey  the  Nation's  law; 
Reluctantly,  with  stoic  pride, 
He  left  the  land  where  fathers  died. 

While  striving  hard  to  crush  a  sigh, 

He  passed  his  pale-faced  conquerors  by; 

He  looked  toward  the  setting  sun, 

And  mourned  the  days  whose  course  had  run. 

To  hunting  grounds  they  bade  adieu 
When  sadly  seeking  pastures  new, 
And  in  the  land,  so  wide  and  vast, 
To  reservations  on  they  passed. 

In  Colorado's  sunny  clime 
The  Utes  must  still  abide  their  time, 
While  brave  Ignacio  leads  the  band, 
To  rule  dictator  of  his  land. 

And  now,  to-day,  the  plowshare  turns 
The  ground  for  which  the  Indian  yearns; 
But  civilization,  in  its  sway, 
Is  Nature's  law  —  we  must  obey. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 


77 


And  as  by  skill  that  sculptors  own, 
The  image  springs  from  out  of  stone, 
So  in  the  power  the  white  man  wields 
All  hidden  wealth  the  ground  reveals. 


THE  MINING  PROSPECTOR. 


A  mining  prospector  started  out  with  his  tools  - 
His  pick  and  his  shovel  and  measuring  rules ; 
With  a  camping  outfit,  and  powder  and  drill, 
To  stake  off  a  "  claim"  on  the  steep,  rocky  hill. 


He  worked  with  a  will  from  day  unto  day, 
In  order  to  strike  some  ore  that  would  pay; 
Sinking  deeper  his  shaft,  with  windlass  and  rope, 
He  hauled  up  the  rock  with  a  heart  full  of  hope. 


(78) 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  79 

But  one  of  his  friends,  who  was  standing  quite  near, 
Said:  "Your  toil  is  in  vain,  from  what  I  can  hear 
From  many  who've  worked  before  on  this  ground — 
No  mineral  at  all  will  ever  be  found. 

"You  are  wasting  your  time,  as  I  might  have  done, 

On  ore  that  will  yield  not  a  cent  to  the  ton; 

My  advice  is  all  free  —  you'  re  a  fool  if  you  stick 

To  this  worthless  old  "claim,"  with  your  shovel  and  pick." 

But  he  was  not  dismayed,  he  went  right  along 
In  sinking  his  shaft  and  singing  his  song; 
He  was  never  discouraged  as  he  went  on  his  way, 
Still  striving  to  strike  the  ore  that  would  pay. 

He  looked  at  some  pieces,  with  glass  in  his  hand, 
To  find  if  it  showed  a  good  ' '  lead ' '  on  his  land ; 
When  a  "trace"  of  pure  gold  appeared  to  his  sight 
His  face  brightened  up  with  a  look  of  delight. 

The  croakers  still  jeered,  as  they  watched  him  at  work; 
These  men  constituted  all  labor  to  shirk; 
They  laughed,  as  they  said  that  his  judgment  was  wild, 
For  only  an  idiot  would  be  so  beguiled. 


80  THE  MINING  PROSPECTOR. 

When  the  rock  that  he  found  showed  a  heavy  "assay," 
He  thought  of  the  fortune  which  was  coming  his  way; 
But  all  his  hopes  dropped,  like  the  stick  of  a  rocket, 
When  he  learned  that  his  ore  was  but  a  small  "pocket." 

At  last,  in  a  "drift,"  which  he  once  had  passed  by, 
He  discovered  the  "  vein"  that  dazzled  his  eye; 
And  thus,  with  the  wealth  good  fortune  did  send, 
His  days  of  "prospecting  "  came  quick  to  an  end. 

When  he  told  to  his  friends  the  wonderful  news, 
An  immediate  change  occurred  in  their  views 
About  the  poor  land  he  had  worked  with  such  pluck 
As  to  yield  him  at  last  his  fortunate  luck. 

One  said  to  the  other:  "  I  told  you  he'd  win; 
I  knew  from  the  first  the  'vein'  he  was  in; 
I  said  to  the  boys,  he'll  soon  strike  the  ore, 
And  I  prophesied  well,  as  often  before." 

Another  remarked:   "I've  made  it  a  rule 

To  stick  to  the  boy  I  knew  when  at  school. 

So  howdy,  old  Jim;  do  you  remember,  I  say, 

When  we  both  got  a  'licking'  from  the  teacher  one  day  ? ' 


RANCH  TAIVES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  81 

11  I'm  a  sort  of  relation,"  said  another;    "  let's  see, 
Your  step-mother's  cousin  in  the  second  degree 
Was  my  mother' s  aunt  —  I  am  glad  it  was  so  — 
'Blood  is  thicker  than  water,'  as  Jim,  you  must  know." 

One  clasped  his  hard  hand  with  vigor  and  zest, 
And  said:   "  Of  all  friends  I  consider  you  best; 
If  you  want  any  help,  I  tell  you,  my  man, 
I'm  the  one  to  assist  you  if  any  one  can. 

The  prospector  smiled  on  at  all  that  he  heard, 
For  he  inwardly  knew  the  motive  which  stirred 
Such  sudden  affection  from  those  who  had  jeered 
At  him  and  his  work,  ere  his  wealth  had  appeared. 

"  My  friends,"  he  replied,  "try  this  rule  to  obey: 
Don't  judge  of  a  man  till  3^ou've  made  an  '  assay' 
Of  worth  that's  intrinsic,  ere  tinged  with  the  gold 
That  clothes  human  nature  with  virtues  untold. ' ' 


CHRISTMAS  ON  CIRCLE  A  RANCH. 


"  Well,  boys,  I  think  we'd  better  get 

A  '  rustle'  on  this  place," 
Said  the  Captain  of  the  "  Round-Up, " 

With  a  smile  upon  his  face. 

For  you  know  to-day  is  Christmas, 

And  'twill  be  no  more  than  right 
To  celebrate  the  happy  day 

With  a  tasty  little  bite. 

We'll  invite  the  punchers  over  — 

All  the  boys  from  Bar  L  8  L8, 
And  we'll  have  a  little  blow  out 

That  is  strictly  up  to  date. 

Our  "round-up"  of  this  Fall,  you  know, 

Beats  the  record  of  last  May, 
As  the  tally  in  our  branding  book 

Shows  well  for  Circle  A  @ 

(82; 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  83 

So  we  deserve  a  jubilee 

As  a  pleasant  little  change, 
For  the  time  will  soon  be  round  again 

To  " rustle"  on  the  range. 

So  then  they  hastened  to  prepare 

A  good- sized  leg  of  veal, 
With  savory  herbs  and  dressing  rich, 

To  serve  their  Christmas  meal. 

They  sniffed  the  odor  of  the  meat 

With  a  cowboy's  keen  delight, 
And  sat  down  to  the  Christmas  cheer 

With  a  hearty  appetite. 

They  drank  their  cider,  cracked  their  nuts, 

Amid  their  laugh  and  fun, 
Nor  did  they  leave  their  joyful  feast 

Until  the  set  of  sun. 

"  lyight  every  lamp  within  the  house," 

The  Captain  cried  aloud; 
And  soon  they  all  were  shining  bright 

Upon  the  happy  crowd. 


84  CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  RANCH. 

They  piled  the  logs  upon  the  hearth 

Until  the  flames  shot  high, 
And  as  each  one  his  story  told 

The  moments  soon  slipped  by. 

Their  hearts  seemed  softened  by  the  hour, 
As  they  spoke  of  Auld  Lang  Syne; 

They  looked  with  hope  within  their  hearts 
To  a  future  happy  time  — 

When  each  would  own  a  ranch  himself 

And  settle  down  for  life, 
When  the  sweetheart,  held  so  near  and  dear, 

Would  be  a  cowboy's  wife. 

And  as  they  smoked  their  briar  pipes, 

Held  firmly  in  each  jaw, 
A  ' '  puncher ' '  there  suggested 

That  they  have  a  game  of  draw. 

Then  Teddy  Wayne,  our  Captain, 
Pulled  the  cards  from  'neath  his  belt, 

And  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
They  soon  were  quickly  dealt. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  85 

The  coin  rolled  fast  upon  the  board 

In  this  social  little  game, 
And  no  one  dared  to  make  a  bluff 

To  risk  his  honest  name. 

The  hands  had  run  quite  evenly, 

When  a  "jack-pot  "  changed  the  bet, 

And  each  drew  down  to  his  own  hand 
To  see  what  he  could  get. 

Old  Andy  pulled  a  pair  of  kings 

As  in  his  chair  he  sat, 
But  Teddy  drew  a  little  heart, 

While  Alec  he  "stood  pat." 

Which  made  the  others  drop  their  hand 

And  look  with  eager  eye, 
To  see  who  drew  the  lucky  card 

With  "royal  flush,  ace  high." 

Then  Teddy  shoved  in  fifty 

And  Alec  stood  the  ' '  raise, ' ' 
But  Andy  popped  it  fifty  more, 

As  in  his  olden  days. 


CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  RANCH. 

The  bets  were  running  very  high, 

With  silver  coin  galore, 
When,  suddenly,  a  knock  was  heard 

Upon  the  ranch  house  door. 

The  boys  had  heard  the  rumbling  sound 
Of  a  "  prairie  schooner"  near, 

And  wondered  who  had  come  to  join 
Their  merry  Christmas  cheer. 

"Who's  there?"  was  quickly  shouted  out; 

And  a  trembling  voice  replied: 
"  Please  let  us  in;   we  are  so  cold, 

And  hungry,  too,  beside." 

At  once  the  door  was  opened  wide  - 

Not  a  moment  did  they  wait, 
While  a  weary  woman  and  her  son 

Their  story  did  relate. 

The  tears  rolled  down  the  mother's  cheeks, 

As  she  stood  beside  her  boy, 
With  a  look  of  sadness  in  her  face 

And  a  heart  that  knew  no  joy. 


RANCH  TAI<ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  87 

' ' '  Tis  many  days  since  we  set  out 

Across  the  plains  to  roam," 
She  said,  "  and  thought  that  we  could  find 

A  place  to  call  our  home. 

"  Within  our  wagon's  covered  sides 

We  have  driven  day  and  night. 
And  were  so  glad  to  see  the  beams 

Shining  from  your  lamps  so  bright— 

"A  beacon  light  upon  the  road, 
•  As  we  drove  up  with  our  team 
Through  the  gulches  and  the  canons  deep 
And  across  the  mountain  stream." 

She  added  :  ' '  For  a  week  or  more 

We  have  had  but  little  food, 
While  the  driving  snow  and  wintry  blasts 

Have  chilled  our  very  blood. 

"  Not  only  cold  and  hunger's  pain 

Has  in  our  life  had  part, 
But  death  has  laid  its  cruel  hand 

On  one  nearest  to  our  heart. 


88  CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  RANCH. 

' '  For  a  father  and  a  husband  dear, 

Who  was  our  prop  and  stay, 
Now  sleeps  within  a  lonely  grave 
That  by  the  roadside  lay. 

' '  Without  a  stone  to  mark  the  place 
When  we  laid  his  bones  to  rest  — 

He  little  thought  this  fate  would  end 
His  journey  to  the  west." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  in  faltering  tones  ; 

"Perhaps  you  men  would  give, 
In  the  name  of  the  Good  Shepherd, 

A  mite  to  help  us  live. 

"Just  a  few  of  your  stray  pennies 
Would  give  us  both  a  lift — 

So,  thankfully,  would  we  receive 
A  little  Christmas  gift." 

She  moved  the  heart  of  every  boy 

That  stood  among  the  lot. 
' '  Take  this,"  they  cried;   and  in  her  hand 

They  placed  the  big  jack  pot. 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  89 

She  looked  at  all  the  men  around 

With  quick,  astonished  gaze, 
For  all  this  coin  —  her  Christmas  gift  — 

Her  very  eyes  did  daze. 

11  Take  it,"  said  Andy,  with  a  smile  ; 

"  'Twill  last  for  many  a  week, 
To  buy  you  comforts  on  the  way, 

As  still  a  home  you  seek." 

"We'll  end  this  game  of  poker,  boys — " 

Fell  from  his  manly  lips; 
"We'll  give  our  guests  a  Christmas  meal, 

When  we  put  away  the  chips. ' ' 

The  woman  listened  silently — 

She  knew  not  what  to  say  ; 
But  down  upon  her  knees  she  fell 

And  fervently  did  pray. 

Then,  rising  up,  she  thanked  each  one 

For  all  their  help  and  aid. 
"  God  bless  you  with  his  loving  care," 

In  heart-felt  tones,  she  said. 


90 


CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  RANCH. 


"I'll  ne'er  forget  this  Christmas  night, 
Which  brought  me  to  your  door, 

And  may  the  joy  you  brought  to  me 
Be  yours  forever  more." 


A  CRIPPLE  CREEK  NARRATIVE. 


When  the  Camp  Cripple  Creek  first  made  a  beginning, 
And  miners  worked  hard  to  earn  a  small  winning, 
There  strolled  to  the  place  a  friendly  shoemaker, 
Whose  card,  when  presented,  read  Jacob  Van  leaker. 
He  said  he  was  trying  his  luck  in  the  West, 
So  came  to  the  camp  he  thought  was  the  best, 
To  see  what  a  start  he  could  make  in  his  trade, 
In  mending  and  selling  the  shoes  that  he  made. 
Van  Laker,  a  Quaker,  a  village  shoemaker; 
A  steady,  hard  worker,  this  Jacob  Van  leaker. 

So  he  hung  up  his  sign  and  went  pegging  away, 
And  stuck  to  his  "last "  from  day  unto  day, 
Making  shoes  for  the  miners,  with  a  good  heavy  vamp, 
'Till  soon  he  had  gained  all  the  trade  in  the  camp. 
He  toiled  for  the  young  and  he  toiled  for  the  old, 
Mending  up  shoes  which  he  neatly  half-soled, 
But  he  saw  that  his  work  was  not  paying  the  same 
As  to  others  around  who  had  staked  off  a  "claim." 
Saw  Van  Laker,  a  Quaker,  a  village  shoemaker; 
A  steady,  hard  worker,  this  Jacob  Van  Laker. 

(91) 


92  A  CRIPPLE  CREEK  NARRATIVE. 

Now,  he  thought  it  all  over,  and  concluded  'twas  best 

To  take  his  few  dollars  and  partly  invest, 

To  work  out  a  "claim"  of  the  many  around, 

Or  to  take  up  a  section  of  good  ' '  placer  ' '  ground. 

So  he  gave  up  his  ' '  last ' '  and  started  a-going 

To  find  where  the  ore  a  good  "  assay  "  was  showing. 

'Twas  not  very  long  when  he  struck  a  "pay  streak" 

In  the  ' 'shaft"  that  he  sunk  on  the  hill  near  the  creek. 

Did  Van  Leaker,  a  Quaker,  a  village  shoemaker; 

A  steady,  hard  worker,  this  Jacob  Van  Laker. 

He  worked  all  "  assessments"  in  less  than  a  year, 

At  the  end  of  which  time  his  title  was  clear 

To  the  "claim"  on  the  hill,  now  in  his  own  right — 

Then  his  fortune  began  to  show  its  first  light. 

As  he  sits  in  his  home,  in  his  fine  easy  chair, 

And  smokes  his  cigar  as  a  big  millionaire, 

He  says  to  the  others:  "  If  you'd  make  money  fast, 

Don't  live  in  a  groove  and  stick  to  your  '  last.'  ' 

Says  Van  Laker,  a  Quaker,  a  village  shoemaker; 

A  steady,  hard  worker,  this  Jacob  Van  Laker. 


THE  COWBOY  REGIMENT. 


Dedicated  to  Colonel  J.  S.   Torrey,  of  Embar,    Wyoming,  Colonel  of  the 
Cowboy  Regiment  mustered  in  at  Fort  Russell,  Wyoming. 

We  are  coming,  we  are  coming,  more  than  a  thousand  strong, 
Twelve  troops  of  cowboy  cavalry  will  join  the  noble  throng; 
We  are  coming,  we  are  coming,  as  we  hear  our  country's  call, 
From  the  wild  and  western  ranches  we  will  serve  her  one  and  all. 
We'll  show  the  treacherous  Spaniards  that  cowboys  have  no  fears, 

We'll  round  them  up  in  our  ''corral"  like  a  bunch  of  yearling 
steers; 

And  we'll  keep  our  irons  in  fire,  and  on  each  Spaniard  brand 
Dishonor's  mark  upon  his  face  if  e'er  he  dares  to  land. 

Our  faithful  bronchos  are  our  friends,  and  when  we're  in  for  war 

We'll  "  cinch"  our  saddles  to  their  backs  as  ne'er  we  did  before; 

You  can  bet  your  bottom  dollar  that  the  trusty  "  forty-five" 

Will  never  let  a  Spaniard  get  away  from  us  alive — 

As  every  boy  who  rides  the  range  can  plant  his  leaden  pill; 

He  never  misses  where  he  aims,  he  always  shoots  to  kill. 

We  all  are  ready  now  to  go,  and  can  quickly  "slip  the  cork  "* 

To  the  sunny  shores  of  Texas,  or  the  coast  of  old  New  York. 

*  To  run  at  full  speed .  (  93  ) 


THE  PASSING  OF  THE  BUFFALO* 


The  buffalo,  in  herds  of  millions  strong, 
Roamed  night  and  day,  an  unmolested  throng; 
From  northern  borders  to  the  Texas  shore, 
He  ruled  a  sovereign  in  the  days  of  yore. 

This  mighty  monarch  of  the  western  plains, 
Whose  noble  form  withstood  the  winds  and  rains 
Of  many  years,  now  numbered  with  the  past — 
His  feet  on  barren  wastes  have  trod  their  last. 


The  red  man,  once  his  fierce,  relentless  foe, 
Too  often  sought  to  lay  his  victim  low; 
While  grizzly  bears  upon  the  mountain  slope, 
As  often  dared  in  struggling  strength  to  cope. 

(94) 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 

No  other  weapon  did  the  Indian  know 
Than  piercing  arrows,  from  a  well-strung  bow, 
Until  the  white  man  came,  with  venture  bold, 
Within  their  midst,  to  search  for  precious  gold. 

But  maddened  indignation  was  in  vain 
Against  the  skill  of  Yankee  hand  and  brain, 
That  brought  to  light  that  deadly  fire-arm, 
Whose  quick  report  now  dealt  such  fatal  harm. 

The  noble  beast  had  found  another  foe 

From  those  who  sang  their  song  of  "Westward  ho!" 

No  longer  now  men  sought  for  meat  alone, 

As  in  the  days  when  arrow  points  of  stone, 

In  well-directed  aim  by  Indian  hand, 
Could  furnish  food  to  feed  a  hungry  band. 
Too  soon  a  sacrifice  to  greed  was  made, 
When  skins  were  sought  to  barter  and  to  trade. 

For  these  the  white  intruder  forced  his  way, 
'Till  loud  reports  of  rifle,  heard  each  day, 
Rang  o'er  the  land,  as  though  a  cannon  pealed 
The  startling  truth  —  the  bison's  fate  was  sealed. 


96  THE  PASSING  OF  THE  BUFFALO. 

And  as  these  fatal  balls  were  quickly  sent 
Through  head  and  heart,  these  herds  of  millions  went 
To  deep  oblivion  —  remembered  but  in  name; 
A  tragedy  no  time  can  e'er  reclaim. 

What  is  there  left,  amid  our  land  so  wide, 
To  mark  this  monarch  in  his  stately  pride  ? 
Ah,  naught  but  bones,  still  bleaching  in  the  sun, 
And  ghastly  skulls  to  show  his  course  is  run. 

And  as  the  star  of  Empire  takes  its  way, 
The  horse  of  steam  is  seen  by  night  and  day 
Still  hastening  fast,  with  black  and  curling  smoke, 
And  speed  increasing  with  each  fiery  stroke. 

And  where  decaying  bones  still  strew  the  ground, 
The  tamer  cattle  in  their  herds  are  found, 
Which  ranchmen  brand  and  cowboys  wildly  chase 
With  horse  and  lariat  in  the  "round  up"  race. 

But  with  the  passing  of  this  noble  beast 
The  daring  bravery  of  the  Indian  ceased, 
And  hunting  grounds,  he  once  did  love  so  well 
Have  to  the  steady  march  of  progress  fell. 


RANCH  TAI,ES  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 

On  reservations  now  the  blood  grows  cold 
In  savage  veins,  where  once  'twas  fierce  and  bold, 
The  Indian— proud— is  destined  soon  to  go, 
As  in  the  Passing  of  the  Buffalo. 


97 


BUCK  FEVER. 


Oh,  the  happy  exultation,  that  filled  my  heart  with  hope, 
When  first  I  saw  a  dashing  deer  upon  the  mountain  slope; 
I  trembled  with  emotion,  as  I  grasped  my  rifle  tight, 
In  fear  the  prize,  so  near  my  aim,  would  vanish  from  my  sight, 

He  seemed  to  toss  his  branching  horns  with  kingly  scorn  and 
pride, 

As  I  crept,  with  silent  caution,  still  closer  to  his  side; 
All  ready  for  the  fatal  shot,  I  sank  upon  my  knees, 
Within  my  ambush  hidden,  just  behind  the  "pinion"  trees. 

Again  I  scanned  the  mountain  rocks  and  checked  a  rising  cry, 
As  the  deer,  with  fleeting  footsteps,  went  swiftly  rushing  by; 
Then  I  raised  my  rifle  quickly,  but  the  old,  confounded  gun 
Kept  shaking  like  an  aspen,  ere  the  shooting  feat  was  done. 

All  my  boyish  exultation  gave  place  to  bitter  rage, 
And  I  used  some  words  emphatic,  that  were  neither  good  or  sage; 
But  with  a  strong,  determined  will,  I  started  on  a  run, 
To  give  that  deer  a  mighty  blow  with  the  butt  end  of  my  gun. 

(98) 


RANCH  TAIVES  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  99 

While  in  this  bold,  defiant  mood,  I  hastened  on  his  track, 
Though  'tis  needless  to  record  the  fact,  I  never  got  a  whack; 
But  a  branch  caught  in  my  trigger,  and  then  ensued  a  noise, 
Which  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  boys. 

Though  I  wasn't  quite  dismembered,  I  was  scared  almost  to  death, 
For  when  the  cowboys  reached  me  I  was  panting,  out  of  breath; 
At  last  I  gasped  out  feebly:  "Did  I  make  that  last  shot  tell ? 
I'd  like  to  see  the  very  spot  where  that  cranky  creature  fell." 

My  words  amused  them  greatly — for  I  saw,  to  my  dismay, 
That  there  was  something  funny  in  all  I  had  to  say; 
For  the  boys  cried  out,  when  laughing  at  my  silly,  stupid  stare: 
"  We  hope  buck  fever  microbes  are  not  flyinglin  the  air." 


SONG  OF  THE  LARIAT. 


With  nostril  distended  and  wide-open  eye, 
O'er  mountain  and  plain,  my  broncho  will  fly. 
He  sees  the  wild  cattle,  he  hastens  his  pace, 
'Till  triumphant  he  com.es  ahead  in  the  race. 

Then  throw  the  stout  lariat,  unfurl  the  strong  coil, 
Imprison  and  capture,  with  never  a  foil; 
Steady!    my  broncho;   stand  fast  in  the  track, 
While  muscle  and  sinew  will  pull  the  steer  back. 


We  heed  not  the  cactus,  the  sharp,  rasping  brush, 
As  onward,  alert,  through  the  canons  we  rush; 
We  are  ever  the  victors,  no  danger  ahead 
K're  baffled  a  "  puncher"  that  a  broncho  has  led. 


(100) 


RANCH  TAI^KS  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  101 

Then  throw  the  stout  lariat,  unfurl  the  strong  coil, 
Imprison  and  capture,  with  never  a  foil; 
Steady!    my  broncho;  stand  fast  in  the  track, 
While  muscle  and  sinew  will  pull  the  steer  back. 

We'll  rope  in  the  yearlings,  with  tightening  noose, 
The  tension  that  tells,  we  never  must  loose. 
By  neck,  hoof  or  horns,  we'll  bind  them  all  fast, 
'Till  the  bellowing  beast  is  conquered  at  last. 

Then  throw  the  stout  lariat,  unfurl  the  strong  coil, 
Imprison  and  capture,  with  never  a  foil; 
Steady!   my  broncho;   stand  fast  in  the  track, 
While  muscle  and  sinew  will  pull  the  steer  back. 

Oh,  boys  on  the  range,  of  brawn  and  of  nerve, 

Use  the  strength  you  have  gained,  your  country  to  serve; 

And  fling  out  your  lariat  upon  the  keen  air, 

To  show  to  the  world  that  you'll  do  and  you'll  dare! 

Then  throw  the  stout  lariat,  unfurl  the  strong  coil, 
Imprison  and  capture,  with  never  a  foil; 
Steady!    my  broncho;   stand  fast  in  the  track, 
While  muscle  and  sinew  will  pull  the  steer  back. 


THE  ROUND  UP. 


Up  the  steep  side  of  the  mountain,  our  broncho  with  safety  we  ride, 
With  his  eager  ears  pricked  forward,  alert  and  dashing  in  pride, 
Over  the  sage  and  the  cactus,  as  lightning,  we  haste  in  our  speed, 
Over  the  wild,  rushing  torrent,  whose  anger  we  never  do  heed. 
Over  ravine  and  deep  crevice  madly  the  animal  leaps, 
Again  o'er  the  pathway  dim,  in  the  darkness,  he  cautiously  creeps. 
Down,  down  o'er  the  bowlders,  once  more,  his  slippery  hoofs  are  led, 
Over  the  sharp,  cutting  stones,  where  many  a  broncho  has  bled. 

Down  through  the  canon  we  gallop,  o'er  the  perilous  road  we  rush, 
Over  the  saplings  and  flowers,  over  the  thorns  and  the  brush, 
And  the  dark,  green  pines  before  us,  their  lengthened  shadows 

will  fling, 

As  over  the  rough  and  jagged  ' l  trail ' '  the  clatter  of  hoofs  still  ring. 
The  rocky  slopes  frown  in  our  faces,  but  the  threatening  aspect 

is  vain, 

As  again  and  again  we  cross  them,  climbing  with  loosened  rein. 
For  never  from  danger  ahead  does  the  faithful  broncho  swerve, 
As  erect,  defiant  and  brave,  he  strains  each  sinew  and  nerve. 

Through  the  outlet  again  he  rushes,  with  a  wide-open  nostril 

and  eye, 

Straining  to  hear  in  the  distance  the  low,  far-reaching  cry 
Of  the  bunches  of  driven  cattle,  far  ahead  on  the  spreading  plain, 
As  on  to  their  fleeting  footsteps  in  quick,  speeding  haste  we  gain. 

(102) 


K 


i 


RANCH  TALES  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 


103 


We  leap  in  our  saddle,  push  onward;  we  shout  as  we  advance 
On  the  bellowing  steers,  whirling  the  dust  as  they  prance — 
Panting,  hastening  and  hustling,  breathing  as  engines  aloud, 
Herding  and  striving  together,  a  steaming,  exhausted  crowd. 
Then  the  boys  "cut  them  out,"  each  owner  tying  his  calves  by 

the  feet, 

While  the  branding  irons  in  the  fire  quickly  are  put  to  heat. 
Then  each  takes  his  "bunch"   of  young  cattle,  throwing  them 

down  without  fear, 
And  the  brands  of  the  ranches  are  smoking  on  the  sides  of  the 

bellowing  steer. 


I ;  J 


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